Ides of August
by EvergreenDreamweaver
Summary: A trip to Lake Tahoe turns out to be anything but a vacation for the Hardy Boys, their girlfriends, and their parents. And why does everyone seem to want Frank's new video camera?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world.

Story note: This takes place approximately 5 to 6 weeks after the end of _Death on the Fourth of July_. As usual, OCs abound.

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 **The Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 1

Mid-morning August sunlight sparkled off the jewel-like waters of Lake Tahoe, as two young couples made their way along the shoreline. There was no set purpose or destination evident; on the contrary, they were all apparently meandering as the spirit moved them.

The tall, slender, ash-blonde girl in the lead kept halting progress, impatiently tapping her feet against the ground in an effort to dislodge sand, dirt and small pebbles from her sandals. The blonde young man beside her was evidently trying to master the art of walking on his hands, for he kept flipping into an upside-down position, managing a 'step' or two on his palms, then falling over once more. His halting progress kept him veering off in different directions, and occasionally he would have to jog a few steps to catch up with the others.

The other girl, a petite coppery-haired lass, was walking closer to the water's edge than the others, casually swinging her own sandals from one hand. The absence of shoes made for a more cautious approach to where she stepped, but at least she was free of having to shake sand out of them. She watched her friends' antics with amusement, a sweet smile curving her lips, and a dimple evident in one cheek. Every so often, she called out encouragement to the blonde guy trying to balance on his hands, or turned to look back at the fourth member of the party.

Walking slightly behind the other three, a tall, dark-haired young man kept swinging a compact video camera into position and squinting into the viewfinder, evidently filming the lake, the mountains, his brother's attempts to walk on his hands, the blonde girl's exasperated struggles with sand in her shoes…and each and every fleeting change of expression or movement which the little redhead made.

"Blast and drat!" Vanessa Bender's voice betrayed an intense desire to use more pungent terms, as she stopped once again to tap grit from her shoes. She stood on one foot and yanked the other sandal off, shaking it out so vigorously that she lost her balance. "Oh, for…." She flailed her arms, trying to right herself.

"Steady, babe! Hang on!" Somehow, the blonde guy was there, holding her up before she tumbled to the ground. "Why don't you just take them off, like Megan?" Joe Hardy reasonably inquired of his girlfriend, steadying her with an arm about her waist.

Vanessa gave an exasperated snort. "I was trying to keep cleaner," she explained. "And I didn't want to step on anything sharp…." Her voice trailed off; she sighed, and then resignedly bent to remove the remaining sandal. "I give up." But her expression was one of distaste, nevertheless, as she surveyed the ground. She glanced up, as the other two approached them. "Frank, I don't suppose there's any hope you didn't get that impression of a stork on film, is there?"

"Captured for posterity!" Frank Hardy answered cheerfully, patting the camcorder which now swung from its strap about his neck. "Don't worry, Van – you make a lovely stork."

Megan chuckled. "Don't worry is right, Vanessa – I'll edit that tape." She snuggled against Frank, wrapping her arms about him, her red-gold curls resting against his shoulder. "Just look at the color of the water – did you ever see anything so beautiful in your life?"

Obediently, the other three swung to look at the deep turquoise lake, and assenting murmurs came from Joe and Vanessa. Frank, however, remained silent, evidently giving Megan's rhetorical question deep consideration. At last, he turned to his girlfriend, removed her sunglasses, and stared thoughtfully into her somewhat-startled eyes.

"Yes, I have," he finally gave judgment. "Every time I look at you."

Megan dropped her head forward against his chest, laughing, as her cheeks turned pink. "You crazy…" she murmured. But Frank was at least halfway correct; Megan's eyes were indeed a turquoise blue shade that rivaled the lake waters, and moreover, Lake Tahoe wasn't graced with eyelashes of incredible length, the way Megan Wright was.

Joe grinned and winked at Vanessa, then followed his brother's example, and pulled her closer into his arms, as Frank bent to kiss Megan. For a few timeless moments, the four stood motionless on the lake shore.

Vanessa was the first to return to reality. She freed herself from Joe's embrace, but kept her fingers entwined with his as they resumed their slow stroll down the beach. "I'm glad your mom asked me to come along on this vacation!" she said. "It was so foul, when Mom's emergency meetings with the producers couldn't be postponed, and all our plans were spoiled! And your mom was so nice to invite me. I thought I was going to have to go without a vacation this year – I mean a going-away-someplace vacation."

"I'm glad too," Megan put in, replacing her sunglasses as they walked. "That is, I'm glad she asked you – and me! Not glad that your vacation plans with your mom fell through, Van," she amended hastily. "I'm pleased that Laura wanted me to come along and keep you company. And this is like – a little piece of Heaven!" she sighed blissfully, gazing once more at the sparkling lake waters.

"It's more fun with you two here," Joe declared. "Frank and that new camcorder make for dull company." Joe's sapphire-blue eyes twinkled mischievously at his older brother, daring him to argue the matter, although Joe really didn't mean what he said. But Frank's brown eyes were riveted on the girl beside him, and he paid scant attention to Joe's gibe.

Nineteen-year-old Frank Hardy and Joe, a year younger, were the sons of prominent private investigator Fenton Hardy, and his wife Laura. Residents of the East-coast city of Bayport, the Hardys had planned this family vacation to South Lake Tahoe as a much-needed respite from the humid August heat and the pressures of Fenton's work. Frank and Joe, detectives in their own right, as well as students, had been glad of the break too. And having their girlfriends included, at Laura's behest, had figuratively added frosting and ice cream to the cake which was vacation.

Frank and Megan were preparing to start their sophomore years at Bayport Community College, while Joe and Vanessa were anticipating being college freshmen, and this mid-August jaunt was a welcome change from summer jobs. But while Fenton and Laura looked forward to lake cruises, taking in some shows, and perhaps a little casino action, the teens had more active pursuits in mind. And Frank wanted to use his new toy, purchased just the week before. He had sunk most of two weeks' pay from his piloting job at Jack Wayne's air cargo service into the sleek little device, and was rightfully enamored with it.

"Frank's camera isn't all that bad." Megan now defended her boyfriend. "Just remember, he got that marvelous reenactment we saw yesterday, on film!"

Joe looked slightly pained, but had to acknowledge Megan was right. "For Shakespeare, it was pretty good," he admitted. "I'll bet you and Frank got more out of it than I did, though…since you like Shakespeare, and he took two terms of it last year."

"'Beware the ides of March,'" Megan intoned in a sepulchral voice…and then giggled.

"It's August," Frank reminded her gently, and she poked him in the ribs.

"It was good," Vanessa declared, "and since we're staying right there at Caesars Palace, I'll bet we'll get to see them do more. Joe," she added, studying him critically, "you could pass for one of them, with those curls you've let grow!"

Joe burst out laughing, but struck a pose and began declaiming, somewhat to the others' surprise – for he wasn't much of a drama buff – credible-sounding prose.

" 'O Caesar…great Caesar…speak, hands, for me!'" He staggered, miming being stabbed, and croaked out a fairly credible " ' _Et tu, Brute!_ Then fall, Caesar,' " and collapsed to the sand, groaning piteously.

Megan shrieked " 'Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!'" and laughed until she had to sit down on the sand.

Vanessa and Frank cracked up too; Frank shaking his head and wishing he'd had his camera on during Joe's dramatic flight. Vanessa knelt beside the fallen 'Caesar' and put her arms about him, hugging him hard as she laughed.

###

Eventually, the four managed to compose themselves enough to continue their walk along the beach, and Frank resumed his sporadic filming. When they reached a small beach stand selling beverages and packaged snacks, they decided to stop and get drinks, for the morning sun was rapidly growing hot.

"What's on tap for today?" Joe inquired, idly wrapping a strand of Vanessa's long hair about his hand and stroking its silk with his thumb, as he sipped his juice.

Megan dug into the canvas tote bag she had been carrying. "I've got a tourist guide," she announced. "Listen to all these things." She rapidly turned the pages of the little book. "We could go to see Vikingsholm Castle, for instance."

Frank craned his neck to read over her shoulder. "Vikingsholm…yadda, yadda, yadda…a mile walk down and then back up from Emerald Bay?" He winced. "Remember, we can't drive the car Dad rented, because we're not 21, so it's travel by foot, Baby! Or rent bicycles, or motorcycles, or something." He read a bit more. "Heck, the only way to get there is walk or take a boat!"

Megan frowned thoughtfully, and went back to turning pages.

"Wimp," Joe remarked, _sotto voce_. Then, louder: "How about we take the tram up to Heavenly ski resort? The view's supposed to be something else. Or we could go kayaking, or biking, or a hot-air balloon ride…."

"Ambitious, aren't you?" Vanessa commented. "We could just lie around the pool at the hotel! Or swim in the lake, for that matter. Although I think the lake's pretty cold, even in August!"

"Let's do the pool thing later, in the afternoon," Megan suggested. "And do more active stuff now, while it's still cool." She cocked an inquisitive eyebrow in Frank's direction, and the elder Hardy boy nodded agreement. Of course, Frank would probably have agreed to just about anything Megan suggested – short of hiking a hilly mile to Vikingsholm Castle and back, that is!

"First, though, I want to go back to Caesars and get my bag, so that I'll have sunscreen, and stuff," Vanessa said. "And my hat. I don't want to go all day without a hat; the sun's too hot."

Joe gave her a quick, concerned look. He remembered all too well how worried he'd been when Vanessa had been affected by the heat and blazing sun, back in July. Even though it had apparently been a one-time thing, and she'd assured him again and again that she wasn't usually bothered by the sun, he still fretted. He rose to his feet and extended a hand to her.

"Let's do that," he said, "and decide exactly what we want to do, on the walk back."

#####

When they reached the lovely Caesars Palace hotel, Frank was once more seized with the impulse to film things. He directed them towards the colonnade, where 'authentic' Roman statues stood, and paintings decorated what walls there were.

"Honey, go stand over there by that Roman soldier," he requested now. "Pretend you've got a tray or something, like that other statue."

Megan, shaking her head incredulously at the ridiculous things she did for the man she loved, obeyed, but couldn't manage to keep a straight face long enough for Frank to film her very successfully. She kept breaking into fits of giggles, egged on by Joe, who was making faces behind his brother's back. Frank finally tumbled to what was going on, and swung about, catching Joe in the middle of his antics. With a shrug, he taped them.

"All right, all right…Vanessa, how about you? Go over there and try to look Roman," Frank directed next, once he had stopped laughing at Joe.

Vanessa moved to where he pointed, and struck a pose, left arm and hand bent at 90-degree angles in front, and the same with her right, only pointing backwards. Her nearly-six-foot height increased the drama of her stance, as she faced sideways, presenting her profile to the camera. Megan and Joe exploded into laughter again.

"No, no!" Frank wondered if Steven Spielberg ever had to put up with things like this. "That's Egyptian, not Roman!"

"Make your own girlfriend pose, but leave mine alone," Joe defended Vanessa. "She's perfect the way she is; she doesn't need to look Roman, or Greek, or whatever."

"I can't, she's too short," Frank replied absently, still peering through the viewfinder. "Vanessa's more classical looking – ow!" he broke off, as Megan's small fist firmly connected with his bicep. "Hey, I didn't mean you were too short – I mean, honey, you're just right, but Van's more the aristocratic, Roman type – OW!" Chagrined, he looked down from his 6'1" height at his foot-shorter girlfriend, as she whacked him again. "Sorry, Baby. That sort of came out wrong."

Chortling at his older brother's _faux pas,_ Joe walked out onto the patch of grass again, and resumed his efforts to walk on his hands. Passers-by glanced, then openly stared, and one or two applauded. Frank, deciding that any action was better than none, turned on the camcorder once more, and taped him. To everyone's surprise, Joe was actually beginning to get the hang of it, managing to stay balanced on his hands for longer and longer periods of time.

"There's a really nice statue over there," Megan commented at last, pointing towards the little outdoor theater where they had watched the Julius Caesar reenactment the previous day. Frank looked where she indicated, and nodded approvingly.

"Would you and Vanessa walk over there and pose by it?" he requested. "Not 'Roman' this time – just walk over and stand and look pretty." He grinned engagingly down at Megan, and she returned his smile with one of her own, one that made her azure eyes glow and her dimple flash – and made Frank Hardy's heart skip a beat or two, in response.

The two girls obligingly strolled over and took their places beside the statue, and Frank once again turned on the camera. Behind them, he could see what was evidently part of the Shakespearean drama group rehearsing a scene. _It must be Julius Caesar again_ , Frank decided, absently noting that the action taking place seemed to be similar to the reenactment they had witnessed the day before. _I wonder what else they do, besides that one scene?_ Deciding it would give an interesting contrast to the girls and the statue, he let the film run a minute or two longer.

"There! Very nice!" he said at last, and switched off the power. Megan and Vanessa walked across the grass to join the boys, and the four set out for the hotel, so that Vanessa could get her bag and hat.

As they walked away, no one noticed the close attention they were receiving from one of the actors on the stage behind the statue.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. It takes place shortly after the end of "Death on the Fourth of July."

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you very much, Cherylann and Max2013, for your feedback on Chapter 1.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 2

Laura Hardy moved a few steps forward in the line wending its way up the boarding ramp to the _Royal Tahoe_. Behind her, her tall, dark-haired husband Fenton moved also, keeping in close enough contact to ensure they weren't separated in the crush of people. She glanced back at him, and smiled, her blue eyes alight with pleasure.

"I'm really looking forward to this," she confided. "This cruise sounds so elegant – taking off from Emerald Beach, and stopping here and there at points along the south shoreline…the scenery is spectacular, no matter where you are, on the water – and then that luscious-sounding buffet!"

He nodded. "I'm looking forward to it, too. We were lucky to be able to get tickets; usually these cruises are sold out months in advance. I understand there were some cancellations, and that's why some space was available."

Laura brushed a strand of blonde hair back from her face, where it had been tossed by the fitful lake breeze. "This is almost like a second honeymoon," she observed, with a demure smile. "The kids are old enough to fend for themselves, and we can do just about whatever we please."

"What were they intending to do, did they say?" Fenton asked. He smiled reminiscently. "It's more like a first honeymoon," he added. "If you'll recall, the first one got postponed – and then interrupted!"

"They didn't say, although I believe they were starting off with something simple today, like a walk on the beach," Laura replied. "And yes, I remember – but I wasn't going to bring it up if you didn't."

She thought back to those long-ago days. _First, the quiet little wedding, after Mother and Judge Daddy died…and then we had to put off a real honeymoon because of Fenton's job with the NYPD. And when we finally managed to get away – two weeks in the south of France! – he gets called back because of an emergency case! Well, I've gotten over that, a long time ago._ She repeated the last words aloud, "I forgave you for that years ago, darling. And we can make up for it this time around," and tiptoed to kiss him. Fenton put his arm about her and snuggled her close, once again marveling at the good fortune which had blessed him with Laura Whittier for a wife.

They moved forward again, slowly. Immediately in front of them, a couple approximately the same age as the Hardys half-turned to face them, as the line came to a halt once again.

"We couldn't help overhearing—" the woman said, with a friendly smile, "that you're considering this a second honeymoon. We are too." Taller than Laura, with dark, curly hair and dark eyes, she cast an amused glance at her husband, a man of medium height, with thinning reddish-brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. "A much-overdue vacation, I might add."

"Randall Claremont." The man introduced himself, extending his hand to Laura and then Fenton. "And this is my wife, Lisa. We're from Sacramento." He grinned ruefully. "I'm in the corporate business world, and this is the first time I've managed to get away from the office for any length of time in five years!"

"And it took an incredible amount of planning and preparation to do it this time!" Lisa Claremont confided to Laura with a laugh, as Fenton introduced himself and Laura, the two men shook hands, and they began to converse.

"I know just what you mean!" Laura responded, and the two exchanged knowing looks. Being married to super-achievers created an instant bond. "We keep attempting to schedule them, but it seems like something always interferes!"

"Randall keeps checking in with his office, by phone, but so far they've managed to struggle along without him – he can't imagine how they're doing it!" Lisa confided. She added, _sotto voce_ , in an aside to Laura. "Maybe he'll figure out he can do this more often, and his business won't go up in smoke!"

The two couples chatted amicably as the line moved slowly toward the cruise ship. The Claremonts, too, had gotten tickets at the last minute, and were congratulating themselves on their incredible luck.

"I wonder why this one cruise ship suddenly had vacancies," Fenton commented curiously. "All the others were booked solid, but this one had available tickets for any day."

Randall Claremont frowned a trifle nervously. "You don't suppose there's anything…wrong…with this boat, do you?" he asked. "I didn't hear anything bad about it – did you?"

"No." Fenton and Laura both shook their heads. "Not a word. Maybe it's just a coincidence that people had to cancel their plans at the same times."

Finally, they moved up the boarding ramp and made their way onto the ship. Lisa and Randall went down to the enclosed lower salon, where the large picture windows offered waterline views of the lake. Laura and Fenton, however, opted to remain outside for the moment, on the upper deck. They walked around the whole ship, while the remaining passengers boarded and settled into their places. Laura was constantly snapping photos with the digital camera her sons had given her for a birthday gift, even managing to catch a rather sheepish-looking Fenton relaxing, drink in hand, in one of the leather chairs in the lounge surrounding the captain's helm.

At long last, a whistle blew a breathy, dual-toned note, the gangplank was drawn up, and the ship moved slowly out into the lake. Laura rapturously watched the shoreline recede, leaning out over the railing and letting the breeze ruffle her blonde hair.

"Ladies and gentlemen…" Loudspeakers came to life throughout the ship. "This is Captain Aaron Lawson, welcoming you to _Royal Tahoe's_ premier lake cruise. As you know, this is a four-hour cruise, combining both sightseeing stops at various points around the southern portion of Lake Tahoe, and a buffet luncheon, served in our lower-deck dining salon at three o'clock.. The buffet is included in your ticket price, and all beverages are complimentary. At some point during the next hour, we suggest that you locate your table, for later reference…." The captain went on to enumerate the various places they were to stop, mentioned the glass-bottomed viewing area on the main deck, and concluded by wishing them a pleasant voyage.

#####

An hour later, Fenton and Laura found themselves seated in the beautifully-appointed dining salon. Although they had discussed reserving one of the private alcoves for their 'honeymoon' luncheon, the Hardys had finally opted for eating at one of the larger tables, sharing with several other diners. They discovered their seats were within conversational distance of the friendly Claremonts, with whom they had joined forces during the stops the boat had made, and the four of them avidly discussed the things they had seen.

"Aren't these pretty?" Laura proudly displayed a set of coffee mugs she had purchased in the ship's little gift shop. "And can you believe it? – I took so many pictures, I actually used up my whole digital card! But the gift shop had them in stock."

Her husband groaned expressively. "At a nice mark-up in price, no doubt," he grumbled, but the twinkle in his brown eyes belied his comment. He was wholeheartedly delighted to see Laura having a good time. He surveyed his overflowing plate with contentment. "This food is excellent!" he added.

Laura nodded, taking a bite of her pasta salad. "This is marvelous – but I admit, I'm nuts about buffets, so I was anticipating it!" She sipped her wine, then pushed one of the baskets of warm bread nearer Fenton. "Here – eat this, so that I won't!"

"If I keep eating up all the bread, I won't have any room for all this on my plate!" Fenton protested, but took more, all the same.

They continued with their meal, occasionally chatting to the other diners around them, but mostly just enjoying the food, the wine, the soft music provided by a jazz combo in the corner of the salon, and the gentle motion of the cruise ship. They were seated near one of the wide windows, and the view of the sun sparkling on the blue lake waters was breathtaking.

The dessert table was nearly overwhelming in its abundance. Cakes, pies, pastries, cookies, puddings….Laura protested that she shouldn't, she really shouldn't…and then succumbed to the meringue shells filled with sliced, sweetened strawberries and whipped cream. Fenton took German chocolate cake, and murmured to Laura that really, it _was_ better than Gertrude's, but for heaven's sake, not to tell her he'd said so!

When their plates were finally empty, Laura pushed her chair back with a long sigh. "I think I'd better walk around for awhile, darling, or I'll fall asleep right here at the table! And napping during a cruise is not what I want to do!"

"Sounds fine to me," Fenton replied. "Let's go up top. Too bad it isn't dusk," he added, with a significant look. "I'd like to watch the sunset over the lake, and then wait for the stars to come out." He intertwined his fingers with Laura's as they made their way out of the dining salon and up the narrow stairs to the upper deck. The jazz combo had stopped playing, once the luncheon was over, but now soft guitar music was being piped through the ship's sound system. They drifted over to the nearest railing and watched the water purl backwards away from the boat.

"Look!" Laura pointed to a small flock of birds skimming across the water's surface. "Aren't they graceful?"

"Mm-hmm!" Fenton's reply was muted as he slapped at another winged guest – this one a mosquito bent on its own lunch buffet – one which featured _sanguis a la Hardy!_ "I thought these bloodthirsty little beasts only came out after dark! Let's keep walking, so they at least have a moving target!"

As they neared the bow of the ship, Fenton and Laura heard several voices raised in fretful-sounding conversation. Curious, they approached the sounds, and found a family sitting near the railing; parents and two young children. One of the children, a girl about ten years old, was curled miserably in a chair, arms wrapped about her stomach, and tears streaking her face. A younger brother hovered near, patting her in an effort to be comforting. The mother and father appeared somewhat concerned, but their worry was tinged with irritation.

"Is something wrong?" Laura asked, walking toward the little group. "Can we do anything to help?"

"Thanks, but I don't think so." The woman gave Laura a grateful smile. "Erin has a stomachache, that's all. I guess the buffet didn't agree with her. Maybe she over-ate."

That Erin wasn't feeling well was abruptly made very evident, as she suddenly got to her feet and made a dash for the railing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Laura commiserated. "Is the motion of the boat making it worse?"

"Maybe." Erin's mother sighed. "But it's really a very calm day; I didn't think getting seasick would be a problem. She doesn't usually get carsick."

Regretting that they could do nothing for the unhappy family, Laura and Fenton resumed their stroll along the railing of the cruise ship. Before long, they reached a point where they could see lovely little Fannette Island, with its picturesque stone tea house. Laura reached for Fenton's hand.

"Isn't that island adorable? Can you imagine having afternoon tea there? That's what the owner did; she and her friends would take a boat over for tea, in the 1930s!"

He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her indulgently. "I'm not all that big on afternoon tea, but yes, it's very beautiful. Very…secluded." One dark eyebrow elevated significantly, and Fenton reached to slide his free hand through Laura's soft blonde hair, and pull her closer.

Her eyes widened. "Secluded? Fenton, you sound more like one of your sons than yourself!" she teased. "I think vacations must be good for you."

"Too bad it's not dark…" he murmured, but just as he was leaning down to kiss her, the sound of hurrying feet rapidly approaching alerted them to the presence of others. Before they could move, a shout of "Coming through!" resounded, and to their shock, a man rushed past them, and was violently sick, over the rail.

"For heaven's sake!" Laura exclaimed softly. "What in the world? The water's not rough – how very strange!"

"I wonder what's making people so sick?" Fenton mused, glancing back toward the bow, where the little girl had been, then over at the man still draped over the railing.

"Honey…" Laura's voice held a warning note. "Curiosity killed the cat, remember? And yours will get the best of you, yet!"

Fenton was about to make a laughing rejoinder when they heard another commotion near the railing ahead of them, and yet a third person – this time a young woman – was seen to be miserably vomiting into the waters of the lake.

"There's something going on," Fenton scowled. "People don't just suddenly start getting nauseous like this without a reason. If the water was choppy, I could understand it, but…." He and Laura made their way to the nearest stairway, and descended, amid the obviously-shaken passengers who had seen the two people become ill.

When they stepped into the dining salon, the room was buzzing with voices raised in excited conversation. At first it was difficult to make out definite words, but as the Hardys neared the center of the room, a single voice rose and made itself clearly heard:

"This isn't the first time you've tried to poison someone, either! You cheating scoundrel! I demand my money back!"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world.

Thank you to Cherylann, Max2013 and LaurieQ for their kind comments!

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 3

After spending some time discussing the issue, Frank, Joe and the girls had finally decided on a plan of activity for the day. Joe had come out the winner, and they walked the short half-mile from Caesars to where the gondolas for the Heavenly Aerial Tram boarded. Now they were being wafted upwards, ever higher and higher, towards the observation deck

"This is glorious!" Vanessa breathed, staring raptly through the glass at the sky, the trees, and the lake far below. "Absolutely breathtaking!"

From halfway up the mountain they saw, stretched out below them, the azure waters of Lake Tahoe and since the day was relatively clear, they could see almost halfway across the lake, all the way out to an island near the middle of the lake. All kinds of sails jutted up from boats in the water and dotted the blue waters with white or green or purple – whatever color the boaters wanted to use for their sails. They saw, too, several more ships, including some of the cruise ships.

"You think mom and dad are on one of those?" Frank pointed toward one of the cruise ships through the glass. "Do you remember which boat it was?"

"I think it was… I don't know, the something Tahoe? Tahoe something?" Joe said as he wrapped his arms around Vanessa and rested his chin on her shoulder, watching the scenery.

"That's real helpful, bro," Frank laughed.

"It's the _Royal Tahoe_ ," Vanessa said. "I remember your mom talking about it. She was really excited."

Frank had his camera out and running, even though he had to shoot through the glass. There was no way he was going to miss catching the panoramic scenery on film. Occasionally, he turned the camcorder inward, and filmed Joe, Megan and Vanessa as they – and the other four passengers in the gondola – _ooohed_ and _ahhed_ over the views. For a little while he allowed Joe to take the camera and film him with Megan, but soon Frank's fingers itched to possess the sleek little instrument again.

"What are we going to do after this?" Megan queried the others softly, as the gondola moved smoothly upward along its cable. "Joe, it's not your call this time!" she hastily forestalled the blonde Hardy boy as he opened his mouth to make his opinion heard first. "You wanted the gondola ride to Heavenly; give someone else a chance now!"

Joe bristled slightly, but Megan was one of the few people he accepted reprimands from without argument…just as Joe was one of the few people Megan allowed to use the hated nickname 'Red' to her. Mutual affection, and mutual devotion to Frank, made a strong bond between the two of them. So Joe kept still – well, mostly still. He silently mouthed _Kayak! Kayak! Kayak!_ as Frank and Vanessa voiced their opinions.

"What I'd love—" Vanessa said wistfully. "Is a hot-air balloon ride, but those have to be booked way in advance, and they take off at sunrise…"

Joe groaned aloud at that. "Sunrise?" he protested…and then resumed his silent chant.

"…yes, at sunrise," Vanessa continued. "They have to launch when the winds are calm." She smiled. "I read about them last night, after you were asleep, Megan. There's one that takes off from a launch and recovery vessel on the lake, and ends with a champagne brunch right at Caesars! But it takes about five hours total, and it's really not a very practical idea, I admit. Plus, it's expensive to the max!"

"Maybe you could do something sort of similar," Frank suggested, ostentatiously ignoring his younger brother. "There's parasailing – that might be fun. You still end up way up in the air, after all." He swung the camera back toward the windows, panning across the interior of the tram, and the other passengers: a couple in their late twenties with a bouncy six-year-old son, and a man wearing dark glasses, who seemed to be regarding the teens with some intensity. "Sorry," Frank apologized with a smile, and politely switched off the Recording button.

"Hmmm…" Vanessa pondered the idea. "Parasailing. You're right, that might be a good substitute."

"What would you like, Frank?" Megan emphasized the pronoun.

Frank was once again filming the view, but he stopped when Megan directly addressed him, and turned to her. "Jet skis?" he proposed tentatively.

She blinked. "Jet skis?" she echoed, sounding just a bit apprehensive. "Well…okay…maybe…."

"Kayak…kayak…kayak…." Joe elevated the volume of his chant a notch. Vanessa burst into laughter, as did everyone else, including the couple with the little boy, who had been listening to the conversation with interest.

"Let's wait and see what's available," Frank suggested, turning off the camcorder once more, as the gondola glided to a stop at the observation platform. They all got to their feet and stepped out into the pine-scented, sun-warmed morning.

They walked around the observation deck, marveling at the deep blue water far below, and the Sierra Nevada mountains surrounding it. Shadows created by a few puffy clouds scooted across the glassy surface of the lake, and Vanessa wistfully pointed out one of the hot-air balloons in the middle distance; and they noted several of the parasailing boats heading towards the middle of the lake.

"Let's walk a little ways," Joe proposed, seizing Vanessa's hand and pulling her towards a trail heading up the mountain from where the gondolas unloaded. The two couples walked up to the large sign posted at the trailhead, and studied it carefully.

"Hmmm…three trails – easy to moderate – plant and animal life!" Joe murmured. He turned to Vanessa, a manic light in his blue eyes. "Animal life!" he hissed, drawing nearer. "I read that you shouldn't feed the squirrels, or let them get too close…because they might bite – and they might carry…plague!" He snapped his teeth near her neck, in mock threat, then wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her close for a quick kiss.

"I think one must have bitten you, and it was carrying rabies," Frank muttered. Then he decided to follow Joe's example, minus the mythical plague-ridden squirrels, and drew Megan into his arms.

They only walked a short distance along the woodsy trail before deciding that they'd rather check out the little gift shop adjacent to the observation platform. As Vanessa stated, sandals weren't the best choice of footwear for hiking, and she'd already shaken enough things out of hers earlier in the day!

Once in the gift shop, the girls settled into shopping with the ease of long practice, while Frank and Joe hovered uneasily. They caught sight of the people they had shared the tram ride with: the couple with the little boy, who was now exuberantly slurping at an ice cream cone, and the man with the dark glasses, who somehow seemed to always be at the corner of their vision.

Vanessa unerringly went to a display of miniature replica hot-air balloons, and purchased one with a multi-hued gas bag. "My mom will love this," she announced, as she watched it being carefully wrapped for her.

Megan tapped Frank, and tugged his head down until his ear was on level with her mouth. "What do you want to bet that balloon is for Van, not Andrea?" she whispered, with a soft giggle. "You just wait…Vanessa will find something 'more appropriate' for Andrea before the trip's over, leaving the balloon for herself!" Frank chuckled. He suspected Megan was right.

"Are you going to get anything, babe?" he asked her. "They have some pretty stuff here."

"Yes…I know." Megan surveyed her surroundings thoughtfully. "I do want to grab souvenirs everyplace we go. I just don't know what I want, yet." She kept walking and looking, picking up things and putting them down again. Finally, however, she paused in front of a display of tiny, clear glass bells, with _Heavenly_ etched on them in gold-edged script. She picked one up, cradling it gently in her hand. "This."

"Oh, pretty, Megan!" Vanessa breathed, as the little redhead displayed her choice. "Absolutely lovely!" Joe nodded too, and Frank smiled his approval. It felt… _right_.

As they left the gift shop, Joe noticed the man in the dark glasses was still hovering in their vicinity. Each time any of them looked directly at him, he seemed to be busy with his own sightseeing or shopping, but somehow, he was always _there_. Joe nudged Frank discreetly.

"Is it my imagination, or is that guy really following us?" he muttered.

Frank shrugged minutely. "I don't know. It isn't like we're doing anything suspicious," he replied. "Why would anyone want to follow us?"

Overhearing their low-voiced conversation, Vanessa offered her opinion. "You guys are always in detective mode, aren't you? You don't know how to relax any more!" she whispered.

Frank chuckled, acknowledging that she probably was right. They probably _were_ being paranoid.

"Baby, is there anything you want to do now, especially?" he asked Megan, as she stood next to him, cuddling her well-cushioned package containing the glass bell. She thought a moment, looking around, and an impish smile crossed her face.

"Ice cream!" she pronounced, pointing toward the tiny shop with a line of sightseers standing in front. "I demand ice cream – immediately, if not sooner, and the more, the better!"

"Ah, I love a girl with simple tastes," Joe drawled. "You're all right, Red."

Choosing ice cream turned into a task of epic proportions, for the little ice cream stand was stocked with over two dozen different flavors. Frank went 'simple,' and selected chocolate, then stood calmly licking his cone and waiting for the other three to decide. Vanessa waffled between peppermint stick and butter pecan for several anxious minutes, then shifted gears and went with Cookies 'n Cream. Megan opted for mango, and Joe decided on the peppermint Vanessa had spurned. However, he wanted to try Vanessa's too.

"Come on, babe, give me a taste…" Joe coaxed, dogging his girlfriend's footsteps as they walked back toward the aerial tram car.

"No…mine!" she denied, holding it as far away from him as possible. "You have peppermint; be satisfied with that."

"Frank and Megan are sharing!" Joe pointed to his brother, who was holding his chocolate cone where Megan could lick it, at the same time nibbling bites of hers. "Pleeeeease, Van?" he said plaintively.

"Mine, mine, mine!" was Vanessa's laughing rejoinder to his wheedling. She waved her cone tantalizingly near his face, and when he lunged for it, she jerked her hand upwards slightly. The result was inevitable: Joe ended up with Cookies 'n Cream ice cream smeared on his nose.

"Agghhh! Van!" he spluttered, half-laughing, half-furious. She laughed wickedly, but the next minute was tenderly wiping his face clean with a paper napkin, and finally consenting to trade bites of ice cream cone. Megan and Frank watched with amusement, Frank wishing heartily that he'd had his hands free to activate and aim the camcorder.

###

They rode the gondola back down the mountainside, and once at the bottom, set out for the nearest parasailing outfit. To their delight, one of the boats was just returning from an earlier trip, and there were only a few people waiting to board. The four teens hurried out onto the dock which had been built over the rocky shoreline.

"Vanessa, why don't you and Megan go," Frank suggested, seeing that there wouldn't be room for all four of them in the boat, since there were others who had been there first. "You're the one who wanted the balloon ride, and this is next-best choice. Joe and I can do it some other time, when we all can go up together."

"No, that's not fair—" Vanessa began to protest. "We should wait and go later, so that you guys can go along!"

"No, really, babe," Joe assured her, "We'll stay here and watch, and Frank can film you. Then we'll go up later, and he can shoot footage from up there. That way we'll get it both ways."

Megan looked up at Frank, her expression a mixture of anticipation and disappointment. "I'd like to go – but I'd like you to go, too," she said softly. "It won't be nearly as much fun without you."

"Ahhh, Megan…" Frank smoothed her coppery hair gently, a very tender look in his dark eyes. "You always know the right things to say, don't you? Well, you and Van go ahead, this time, and have fun. And Joe's right, I'll film you."

"You kids going, or not?" the boat operator asked in a bored voice. "I've got a schedule to keep, here."

Finally letting themselves be persuaded, Megan and Vanessa boarded the boat with the others, and it pulled away, out into the deeper water. The boys stayed at the end of the elevated wharf, Frank focusing his camera on the boat as it receded. He could see Megan's auburn hair shimmering in the sunlight, and he smiled affectionately, even though he knew perfectly well she couldn't see the smile.

"Frank, I'm going to walk up to that snack stand and get a drink." Joe spoke to him quietly. "You want anything?"

"Mmmm…yeah." Frank didn't take the viewfinder away from his eyes. "I'd take something, yeah."

"Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't accidentally walk off the dock – it's a long drop onto those rocks!" Joe chuckled, and Frank heard his footsteps retreating. It seemed very quiet and peaceful there, now that the boat had departed; other than Joe, no one else was around.

Frank kept filming a little while longer, then hit the 'pause' button. He was just starting to lower the camcorder when he was startled by a hard shove in the back, and he felt someone grab at the strap connected to the camera.

Instinctively reacting to the push, Frank staggered, his hands clutching at his precious camera, which still swung from its strap about his neck. Overbalanced, the elder Hardy boy stepped the wrong way, and suddenly felt nothing but air beneath his foot.

 _He was going to fall from the wharf onto the cruel rocks below!_


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to Cherylann and Max2013 for the feedback!

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 4

Fenton Hardy glanced at his wife just once, a quick _May I?_ look, before he was moving purposefully through the crowd, towards the owner of the angry voice, the person who had just made the accusation about poisoning people! There was no way Fenton could keep out of this, and Laura knew it well. She followed in his wake, shaking her head in amused resignation. _I might have known this would happen!_

"Excuse me…what's the problem?" Fenton asked the question quietly and courteously, hoping to de-escalate the situation…whatever that situation _was_! "My name's Fenton Hardy – Is there anything I might do?"

The man he addressed looked to be in his mid-thirties, and had brown hair and blue eyes. He appeared worried and upset and angry, but when Fenton spoke to him, he seemed to calm slightly. Apparently having someone actually listen to him helped, and the cruise ship's personnel evidently hadn't been doing much sympathetic listening.

"I'm Michael Ranson," he said, jerkily, "and the problem is that too many people have gotten sick on this boat recently! And today, my wife was one of them! I'd heard bad stories about this ship, but when I called the cruise line before booking tickets on it, they assured me that everything was all right! They told me that it had just been random acts of malice, and everything had been checked out – double-checked! – and nothing was wrong!" His voice was rising again. "But obviously something is wrong! And I'm not going to put up with being lied to, and I'm not going to stand for my wife being made ill on what was supposed to be a 'memorable day aboard the _Royal Tahoe_!'" He nearly spat out the quote from the brochure. "Food poisoning is memorable, all right!"

"Why don't you try to calm down a little?" Fenton suggested. "Let's not jump to conclusions. It doesn't look like food poisoning; it's too random. Perhaps the illnesses were caused by something else."

"Yeah!" Ranson exclaimed hotly. "Somebody on the ship trying to kill the passengers!"

The crowd surrounding them stirred and murmured uneasily at this last remark, and there were some frightened gasps. Laura stepped quietly into the group of people for just a moment, to watch the interplay between her husband and Michael Ranson.

"Mr. Ranson, I understand your being upset, but that's a pretty stiff accusation," Fenton commented quietly. "And it's not too likely. I don't see that anyone's been killed…."

While the two men talked, Laura moved silently away from the crowd and sought out the young woman who had just been sick, evidently Michael Ranson's wife. She was standing alone, looking shaken and upset, and Laura felt very sympathetic. _Why, she's not much older than Frank!_ she thought. _She can't be more than 22, at the very most._ She went up to the pale blonde girl and put her arm about her. The young woman's shoulders quivered slightly at Laura's touch.

"Are you all right, honey?" she asked her gently. "I'm Laura Hardy – is there anything I can do for you?"

The girl turned grateful blue eyes to her. "I'm Erica Ranson," she murmured. "and yes, I'm all right. I'm feeling better now – after…" she smiled a little, and made a gesture towards the side of the boat. "after that."

"Would you like to sit down?" Laura questioned, guiding her gently towards a nearby table. "And – excuse me, could you bring Mrs. Ranson a glass of ginger ale?" she broke off to address a nearby waiter. "You look like sitting down might feel good," she told Erica, with a smile. "My husband is talking to your husband," she added, tilting her head toward Fenton and Michael Ranson, "which is a good excuse for us to chat too."

"My new husband!" Erica said, turning rosy. "We were just married a few days ago. We're on our honeymoon – and Michael is upset, because he wanted everything to be perfect! And it was perfect until today. He's so upset now…."

 _She seems a little defensive,_ Laura thought. _Perhaps it's because her new husband appears to be at least ten years older than she is…maybe people question it. Or perhaps she's just shy about them being newlyweds…._ She watched Erica sip at the ginger ale the waiter brought her. _It isn't any of my business if he is or isn't much older than she is, as long as they're happy together. And even that isn't any of my business. At least she's calming down now._

A few moments later, Michael Ranson joined his wife at the table, inquiring solicitously for her well-being. He seemed to have relaxed now that Erica was obviously recovering from her illness, and he made polite conversation with Laura while they waited for Erica to fully recover.

Fenton, loitering unobtrusively, listened to the low-toned conversation two waiters were holding, while they cleared the dining tables.

"Things are sure weird on this ship lately," one said. "The people today weren't the first to get sick."

"There's been like 15 so far," his co-worker agreed. "Just in the last two or three weeks. The police are gonna get involved for sure."

The first speaker cast an uneasy glance about himself. "You know, maybe it might not be a bad idea to look for another job, Marty. Now, while we can! It'll be harder later, if the ship is dry-docked for an investigation, or something. Everyone on the ship will be under suspicion. I don't need that kind of hassle!"

"You're right," the second waiter concurred. "And it isn't just that, either. If word gets around, and people keep canceling reservations, the boss might start laying people off. Better to quit than be fired!" The two moved to another table, out of Fenton's hearing.

Fenton's curiosity had gotten the better of him by now. He went to find Laura.

He located her sitting and talking to Erica and Michael Ranson. She introduced him to Erica, and he expressed his condolences to the pale blonde girl, but he cast a significant look at his wife that said _Come on, I want to talk to you!_ They excused themselves, and walked out of the dining room once again, to resume their interrupted stroll.

"I picked up some interesting information, while you were chatting up Mrs. Ranson – doesn't she look awfully young to be married to him, by the way?" Fenton related what he had heard the waiters say…and then waited.

Laura's expression took on an amused quality…an ' _I knew this was going to happen!_ ' quality. "Darling, I don't have any objections to you looking into this situation…" She paused, laughing at the way his brown eyes lighted up. "but I have one stipulation. I want to help! The whole point of this vacation was for us to spend time together. So if you're going to be investigating this, then I'm going to be right there along with you!"

Fenton chuckled. "You put up a pretty convincing argument." He paused in a shadowed corner and pulled her into his arms. "And I know you're fully capable of helping. So, yes…yes…yes…and welcome to it!" He interspersed the words with light kisses, which were in turn interrupted by their soft shared laughter. The moment was brief, however, for the professional detective in Fenton came to the forefront again, displacing the loving husband. "So, let's get to work. How about interviewing the wait staff? I'll talk to the men, you talk to the women."

The Hardys returned to the dining room where the staff was still clearing up the buffet things and re-setting the tables. They separated, each moving toward an intended target.

Fenton began his quest by speaking with a slender, dark-eyed waiter, who said his name was Miguel. He answered the detective's questions willingly, without hesitation, in softly accented English.

Yes, it had happened before, this bad business of passengers getting terribly ill, for no obvious reasons. Yes, it had been looked into – the Nevada Board of Health came out to the ship, and inspected, but if anything had been found amiss, the staff hadn't been told. He suspected that 'management' was keeping things quiet, so as not to create more bad press. The food was all fresh. The chefs were all bonded and licensed, and had excellent reputations. The ship had been inspected several times, searched rigorously – The Health Department was sure to come again, after today's episode.

"How many people have gotten sick?" Fenton inquired.

Miguel thought about it for a few moments, while his hands deftly put fresh linens and silverware on a table. "Perhaps ten, _senor_ ," he concluded, "perhaps more. All in the last two or three weeks. And all different kinds of people – two children, counting the one today…some young people—" he glanced over to where Erica Ranson still sat, with her attentively-watching husband. "some old people; some in between."

"Thank you, Miguel. I'll let you get on with your work." Fenton excused himself, intending to speak with another of the staff, but as he glanced about, Laura caught his eye.

She had spoken to several of the waitresses, but so far hadn't garnered any information. One, a thin blonde who barely looked old enough to be holding down a job, said that she had heard about the incidents, but had been lucky enough to be off work when they happened. Another, a roly-poly brunette whose name tag read 'Brenda,' said that she had only started working for the Royal Tahoe two days before.

But with the third, Laura felt she hit pay dirt. This was a round-featured woman in her forties who said her name was Cecilia, but that she went by 'Cec.' Cec, who had flaming red hair and a ready smile, sobered when Laura began questioning her about the sudden rash of illnesses among the cruise ship's passengers. Laura was cautious in her questioning, she knew how easy it was to frighten off a potential witness if they saw you as a threat to their well-being.

 _How many years have I been married to Fenton Hardy and heard him talk about that at the dinner table?_ Laura thought ruefully. _Better to stay on the safe side and be cautious, as Fenton always says._

"You bet I saw them! Hon, I'm sure it's one of the waiters!" she whispered. "I'm positive enough that I mentioned it to the boss – but nothing happened, and the guy's still working here."

"What makes you think that?" Laura queried.

"Well, he acts suspicious." Cec replied. She glanced around, as if she expected that same person to appear over her shoulder and stab her in the back. "He's just a kid – but he sorta sneaks around – and he's in places he shouldn't be!"

"What do you mean?"

"I've noticed him in the private alcoves, when the people who were sitting there had gone up on deck." The waitress indicated the little dining areas with a toss of her spectacular hair in their general direction. "And I know for certain, that one time after I'd seen him go in, one of the people who sat there got sick."

At that point, Laura looked around for Fenton; he needed to hear this! Catching his eye, she signaled him over.

As he joined the two women, Laura murmured to him what Cec had told her…and then asked one more question:

"Cec, which waiter is it? Is he in here right now?"

The redhead looked about the room. "That's him!" she exclaimed, pointing – but even as she spoke, the boy in question turned and bolted from the dining room! Fenton sprinted after him, dodging around the chairs and tables, but gaining speed as he went.

Cec and Laura stared at each other in shock, but before they could react further, there came the sound of a crash out on the deck, followed by the ringing shout of "MAN OVERBOARD!"

"Oh, NO! Fenton!" Laura gasped, and raced for the deck.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world.

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to those who have left feedback; it is much appreciated.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 5

As he felt himself stepping into thin air, Frank made a frantic grab for the edge of the dock. He managed to grasp the boards with one hand, and clung tightly, dangling precariously over the rocks, clutching protectively at the camcorder with his other hand. He looked down apprehensively past his feet, not liking the view in the least! _Gotta…get…back…up –_ _don't_ _let go, Hardy!_ He could feel slivers from the rough wood digging into his palm.

To make it worse, his assailant was still making grabs at the camera strap, yanking and tugging furiously from behind him. Frank, concentrating on keeping his grip on the dock, couldn't risk many looks over his shoulder, to see who this attacker was who so evidently wanted his camcorder in the very worst way! But the tugs on the camera strap were, at least, keeping him from plummeting down onto the rocks!

Feeling his one-handed grasp slipping again, Frank swung his other arm upwards, trying to gain a hold with his free hand. He succeeded, but immediately heard a muffled curse, and felt his fingers stamped on by the man who had tried to push him off! Frank yelped in pain and fury, and snatched his fingers away; again he was clinging one-handed, and his arm was getting very tired. _Don't…let…go, Hardy…don't let…go…._

Suddenly, the desperate tugging at the camera strap ceased, and Frank felt the vibrations of running footsteps on the dock, approaching him, and heard a shouted 'HEY!' from someone. It sounded like Joe.

Dragging in a breath of air, Frank let out a choked cry: "Help!"

More running footsteps, this time receding, and Frank knew his attacker had fled. Gasping, he released his grip on the camcorder, grabbed the dock once more with his free hand, and hung there, exhausted.

"Frank!" Joe was there, kneeling on the dock, leaning over him. Frank saw him cast one frustrated glance over his shoulder, evidently regretting not being able to pursue the fleeing man, then felt his wrists tightly grasped. "Hang on, I'll get you up." Joe tugged Frank upwards until the older boy managed to get his forearms over the edge of the dock, then wrapped an arm about him and pulled him all the way up.

Frank sprawled on the sun-warmed boards, panting. He shifted enough to move the precious camcorder out from beneath him, then lay flat once more, attempting to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?" Joe's voice was full of concern, and he was breathing raggedly too. He stretched out on the dock beside his brother. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"N-no….I don't think so." Frank pulled in a deep breath, then exhaled, and sat up slowly. "Thanks for the rescue – I'm not sure how much longer I could have held on." He peered over the edge of the dock, and shuddered. A grimace of pain crossed his face, and he gingerly felt his arm. "Ouch…that's going to be sore for a while, I think." He examined his palm. "And I need a tweezers…." He rotated his shoulder carefully, making sure everything was still in working order, then managed to grin at his younger brother. "Overall, okay."

Frank's next area of concern was the camera. He examined it minutely, again thankful that the sturdy strap had kept it around his neck. Aside from a scratch or two on the surface, from when Joe had hauled him over the edge of the dock, it seemed to be undamaged. Frank turned it on, and panned over the lake, up into the air – and spotted a familiar figure dangling high above – Megan, parasailing!

He zoomed in as closely as he could, and he saw her come into focus, tiny in the viewfinder. Her mouth was moving; she was shouting something, pointing at the dock, and he could see the shocked expression on her face, even at this distance. Obviously, Megan had seen something of what had occurred!

"Uh-oh!" Frank groaned, then laughed ruefully. He got to his feet as rapidly as he could, then waved towards his girlfriend, and signaled a thumbs-up, hoping she would see him and be reassured as to his well-being.

"Now—" Joe was sitting up, arms curled about his knees. "What was that all about, anyway? I go to get something to drink and when I come back, you're dangling off the end of the dock!" He looked around, bemused. "Where did the drinks go, anyway? Oh…hang on a minute." Spotting two large beverage containers lying on their sides at the far end of the dock, the younger Hardy got up and retrieved them. "Lucky they had lids on, huh? There's actually still something in 'em!" He handed one to Frank and settled down again with the other.

"Somebody came up behind me while I was filming," Frank began, slurping his lemonade gratefully, "and before I could turn around, the guy pushed me off the dock, and grabbed at the camcorder strap at the same time!"

"Whew!" Joe whistled through his teeth. "You're lucky you weren't killed, falling onto those rocks! So it was someone trying to steal the camera, huh?"

"Yeah, I think so. This is a tourist haven, after all, and there's got to be lots of people out to score stuff like that," Frank replied.

"That's pretty fishy!" Joe countered. "Most thieves have more sense than to try and grab a camera from someone who's got it on a strap around his neck, for Pete's sake! And this happened in broad daylight – anyone could have seen what happened." He paused, thinking. "Say – did you get a look at him?"

"Not much of one," Frank responded somewhat grumpily. "I was too busy fighting to stay connected to the dock…and he was behind me, and above me, anyway. I saw a dark sleeve, and dark pants, that's all."

"I only saw him from a distance – dark hair, and dark clothing, and sunglasses…hey! I wonder if it was that guy from the tram!" Joe speculated. "That would explain why he was watching us so closely; he was casing the camera!"

Frank nodded. "Maybe – I can't think of anything else that makes sense. But why push me off? I mean – if he wanted the camera, it would have gone into the lake with me, and been ruined!"

"Well, random robbery is the most logical explanation," Joe admitted reluctantly. "But I still say that the thief must have been a rank amateur, to try something like that…especially when you weren't so easy to get at, once you went off the dock. A smart thief would have given up then."

"You're probably right about that. At any rate, I can't think of any other reason someone would try to push me into Lake Tahoe."

Joe opened his lips to reply, then thought better of it, and merely grinned instead. Before he could think of a safe comment, the boys were distracted from their conversation by a shriek coming from high above the lake!

"Whee-oo! Look at that!" Joe laughed and pointed. "Vanessa's up now – yowch, listen to that scream, would you? And she's the one who wanted to go up so badly, too!"

Frank laughed, more relaxed now, and switched on the camcorder once again. He filmed Vanessa, hoping the screams would come through clearly on the sound track, and then panned down to film Joe, who was waving and shouting at his girlfriend. When Vanessa had been returned to the boat, and another of the passengers lofted into the air, Frank turned off the camera and concentrated on picking slivers from his hand, until the approaching purr of a boat's motor announced the triumphant return of the parasailers.

When the boat landed, Megan was the first one onto the dock, closely followed by Vanessa. Both girls were flushed and wet, but exhilarated, and bursting with laughter and chatter.

"That was incredible! Simply incredible!" Megan bubbled, rushing up to Frank. He stepped back from her exuberant embrace, instinctively trying to protect his sore arm, but hastily coming up with another excuse, so as not to worry her.

"You are WET! Stay away from me, woman!" he shouted, fending her off. "Go drip dry somewhere!"

Giggling, she stalked him threateningly, and finally pounced, hugging him about the waist and snuggling against him. Frank made _bleah_ noises, but cuddled her close, just the same. He had no real objections.

"How'd you guys get so wet, anyway?" Joe demanded of Vanessa, who also appeared to have been drenched with a garden hose. He gingerly hugged her, then backed away.

"They dipped the seat down to the lake!" she explained. "You could choose whether or not to be dipped…and we both said 'yes.' Maybe we were dropped just a little too low," she concluded, laughing. She shook out her long hair, fluffing it in the breeze to dry it.

"That's for sure!" Joe grumbled, but he was grinning as he complained. "But you seemed to enjoy it – despite all the screaming!"

"It was cold!" Megan admitted, her soft laugh bubbling up into its characteristic contagious giggles. But then, she sobered, looking up into Frank's face. "But what happened to you, Frank? I couldn't tell what was going on, but it looked like you fell off the dock…?"

"I did," Frank admitted grimly. "Well, I was pushed off the dock, actually. But it's okay, Baby," he hastened to reassure her. "I'm fine. And the reason someone pushed me off the dock, we figure, was to try and steal the camcorder. Just a random robbery attempt."

Megan eyed him askance, but since he was apparently all right, and obviously didn't want to discuss it further, she let the subject drop, and went back to describing what the parasailing venture had been like. "I wish I'd had binoculars with me, although I suppose I'd have dropped them in the lake, or something, when I got so excited," she chuckled. "I took a few pictures of Vanessa, with my little disposable camera." She patted her tote bag happily, then took out a hairbrush and began brushing her coppery curls into some semblance of order.

Vanessa was now spraying herself liberally with mosquito repellent, and she handed the container to Megan. "Whatever we had on, probably got washed off when we went in the lake," she advised her friend.

Joe wrinkled his nose. "Blech. I wish we didn't have to put that stuff on – I know it's necessary, but I don't like the taste of it, when I kiss you!"

"Then maybe you'd better not kiss me in those places!" his girlfriend quipped, and returned the spray bottle to her bag. "I want to go back up sometime!" Vanessa changed the subject hastily, pointing at the parasail boat. "And I want you two to do it with us, next time!" She put a clip into her hair to hold it back, and started applying lip gloss. "You'd go up again, wouldn't you?" she added to Megan.

Megan nodded. "Yes – but I'd like the boys to come too." She turned her head, and fluttered her eyelashes outrageously at Frank. "Puh-leeeeeeeeease, Frank, darlin'? Say you'll come?"

He choked with laughter. "Yes, you conniving little witch, I'll come, Joe'll come, we'll take loads of pictures and I'll video the whole thing! There, does that satisfy you?"

Megan didn't reply in words, but she got her point across.

###

When the girls were satisfied that they were sufficiently restored to normal, as far as hair and makeup were concerned, the four of them walked back to the closest street paralleling the lake edge. They strolled along, content with inspecting the various boutiques and gift shops lining both sides of the street, as the afternoon sun began its descent towards the mountains rimming the lake. But after a few blocks of this, Joe rebelled.

"I'm hungry!" he stated with conviction. "It's almost five – that's close enough to dinner time, isn't it? Let's eat! Somewhere along the line we missed lunch; all we had was ice cream cones."

The other three exchanged rather startled glances.

"I guess we did skip lunch, didn't we?" Vanessa admitted. "Okay, I'm with Joe on this one. What sounds good?"

They looked about. There were several fast-food restaurants, and a pizza place, close by, but somehow, these didn't seem to quite fill the bill. They wanted something just a little more elaborate than Big Macs!

"How about there?" Frank pointed down the block, on the lake side. "There's a sign that says DaVinci's Italian Food. How does Italian sound to everyone?"

"I'll bet it doesn't come close to Marco's!" Joe laughed, but willingly walked along with the others towards the restaurant.

"Well, no one comes close to Marco's, Vanessa agreed. "But this is probably good too."

Since it was still early, the dinner crowds hadn't started building, and the foursome was seated quickly. A friendly waiter brought them ice water and menus, and then left them to make their decisions. Vanessa and Frank both went with spaghetti, Joe decided on calzone, and Megan chose lasagna. As they were eating their salads, another party was escorted to the table nearest theirs, and the four teens could overhear the conversation clearly.

"…hear about the robbery? The sales clerks at that tee-shirt shop were talking about it."

"Uh-huh – somebody's watch was snatched..."

"…digital camera, was what I heard. You mean there were two thefts, just this afternoon?"

Joe looked across the table, meeting Frank's dark speculative gaze. "Sounds like you weren't the only one," he murmured.

Frank nodded soberly. "A watch, a digital camera, a camcorder….somebody's got a theft ring operating here in Stateline – or some thief is suffering from a severe bout of desperation."

"Think we should look into it?" Joe queried. "After all, we are sort of involved already…one of those robbery attempts was you!"

"I knew this couldn't be just a vacation," Vanessa muttered. "Holmes and Watson are at it again!" But she was smiling as she said it.

Frank reddened a little at the comment, but he knew Vanessa wasn't really upset, nor was Megan. In fact, they both looked intrigued, and were waiting for his response to Joe's question.

"I think we just might," the elder Hardy allowed. "But we don't have anything to go on, yet. Let's wait until we know more, before we get involved."

Joe nodded, conceding Frank was probably right.

Just then, their entrees were brought to the table. Eating took priority for a while, and talking took a back seat. Finally Joe, the worst edge of his hunger abated, leaned back and opened another topic of conversation.

"What shall we do tonight?"

"I vote for a night in, by the pool." Vanessa spoke up immediately. "We can swim, go in the Jacuzzi…."

"Thought you'd been wet enough already," Frank murmured teasingly. "Wouldn't you like to be dry for awhile?"

"I think I'd like to take a walk on the beach with my girl, before we settle in at the hotel," Joe said softly, his blue eyes resting on Vanessa's pretty face. "Sunset over the water, and all that. Alone," he added firmly.

"Why, Joe!" Vanessa blushed, but looked extremely pleased, nonetheless. "Okay – that sounds lovely. I'd like it." She reached to clasp his hand beneath the table.

Frank leaned closer to Megan. "That sounds kind of cozy, doesn't it?" he hinted. "Want to do something like that too?" His warm brown eyes held an open invitation.

His girlfriend's dimpled smile was an answer in itself, and her turquoise eyes glowed as only Megan's eyes could. But she kept her reply demure: "I think that would be very nice."

###

After dinner was done, the two couples went outside once more. "Let's split up for awhile, do our walks, and meet back at the hotel at…" Joe looked at his wristwatch. "At eight o'clock?"

Frank and Megan exchanged glances and both nodded. "Suits us," Frank affirmed. He took Megan's hand and started towards the beach.

Vanessa and Joe watched them depart, then Joe pulled Vanessa in for a quick hug. "We didn't have dessert," he reminded her. "Want a snow cone?"

"You're a bottomless pit!" she chided, laughing, but nodded, just the same. "Yes – cherry, please."

They stopped and purchased snow cones at a vendor near the beach, then began their stroll through the sand. Vanessa once more removed her sandals, and dropped them into her bag, and they walked contentedly along, slurping at the icy confections. There were many other people walking the shoreline, but all seemed to be absorbed in their own concerns, and Joe and Vanessa felt cocooned in their tiny circle of privacy. Soon, the snow cones were gone, the little paper cups deposited in Vanessa's bag.

"Isn't it lovely?" Vanessa broke a peaceful silence to gesture towards the golden-red splendor of the sunset. "We don't get sunsets like that in Bayport! Just look at those little gold clouds – and see, look at the purple streaks!" The artist in Vanessa was coming to the forefront.

"Beautiful!" Joe agreed. "And the way it reflects on the water makes it twice as nice." He stopped walking, and put his arms about her. "Not as beautiful as you, though," he whispered.

"Flatterer…" Vanessa turned her face to him, and smiled invitingly. "Watch out for the bug spray…" She closed her eyes as their lips met….

But their kiss was interrupted by the sudden sound of a woman screaming, not far away. "STOP! Somebody stop him! He's got my camera!"

Startled, Joe and Vanessa jerked apart. "Another theft!" Joe gasped. He spun away from Vanessa and sprinted down the beach, dodging pedestrians, in hot pursuit of a man's fleeing form.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to those who have so kindly left feedback.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 6

Laura Hardy raced to the door of the dining salon and scrambled up the narrow flight of stairs, her heart in her throat. She was terrified that the shout of 'Man overboard!' presaged one thing only: that Fenton had somehow dived, fallen – or been tossed – over the railing of the _Royal Tahoe!_

As she rounded a sharp corner and sped onto the upper deck, she saw a knot of people crowded near the rail. The _Royal Tahoe's_ captain was there, and someone else in a white uniform – a waiter, Laura realized, but not the one Fenton had pursued – along with several agitated passengers.

Fenton Hardy was nowhere in sight.

Laura pushed her way through the milling crowd, her murmurs of "Excuse me…pardon me…excuse me, please…Please, let me pass!" becoming more and more insistent. Finally she reached the railing and leaned over, scanning the blue waters intently.

Two men were in the water. One, dressed in the blue-trimmed white uniform of the wait staff, was hanging limply, evidently unconscious, in the grip of the second. Fenton Hardy, clad in gray slacks and a pale blue dress shirt, was stroking towards the _Royal Tahoe,_ holding his quarry securely in a lifeguard's grip.

Laura heaved a sigh of relief. _Thank heavens!_

It took the crew some time to get the two men back aboard the cruise ship, and the unconscious man was immediately put on a stretcher and whisked away to be examined by the ship's doctor. Fenton was wrapped in a blanket and escorted there as well, with Laura trailing in his wake. The curious passengers were encouraged to disperse, and the ship resumed its progress across the lake.

###

"Darling, you're sure you're all right?" Laura hovered near her husband, and demanded reassurance for at least the third time. "That water's so cold—"

"I'm – f-fine," Fenton assured her, through chattering teeth. "J-just – w-wet."

Laura, unconvinced, turned questioning eyes to Dr. Mayhall, a competent-looking woman in her late 30s with long brown hair and friendly blue eyes, who smiled warmly at her.

"He's not hurt in the least," the doctor said. "He's wet and chilled, but other than that, there's nothing wrong with him."

The door to the infirmary was opened abruptly, and Captain Lawson strode in. His expression was both cross and apprehensive, but it lightened when he beheld his foolhardy passenger looking none the worse for his dunking.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're all right," Captain Lawson said. "But jumping into the lake was a bad idea, you realize? You could have—"

"Captain, if I hadn't j-jumped into the lake, you'd probably have lost a c-crew member," Fenton defended himself, still shivering a little. "The man was unconscious when I reached him."

"I know, I know," Lawson grumbled. "And don't think I don't appreciate what you did – but I think you shortened my life expectancy with that stunt!"

"How is he?" Laura asked. "The young man, I mean."

"He's still unconscious," Dr. Mayhall said, "but I expect him to recover."

Fenton shook his head in bemusement. _I wonder what I could have learned from him, if he hadn't jumped overboard…?_ He shivered again, and this time Captain Lawson took some notice of it.

"Sir, if you don't mind wearing a ship's uniform for a little while, we'll get your clothes dried," the captain said. He popped his head out the door and issued a request to a passing crew member, then returned. "We'll have a spare uniform here for you in just a few minutes."

"Th-thank you," Fenton said gratefully. Doctor Lawson patted his shoulder, murmured that she needed to attend to her other patient, and went into the adjoining room. Captain Lawson settled himself into one of the chairs and surveyed the Hardys thoughtfully.

"All right, let's hear why all this happened," he invited.

"Well, I admit, I was chasing your crew member," Fenton began. "My name is Fenton Hardy, and I'm a private investigator from Bayport, New York. I'm not here in a professional capacity, though – I'm on vacation. This is my wife, Laura. I got curious about the recurring illnesses aboard the _Royal Tahoe_ , and I wanted to talk to that man. Before I could, though, he ran away. I ran after him," he concluded, simply.

Captain Lawson shook his head. "All this with people getting sick on here – it's bad, really bad for business."

"Any ideas about what – or who – is causing it?" Fenton queried.

"No," Lawson replied somberly. "But I'm fairly sure it's not confined just to the _Royal Tahoe!"_

"You mean, other cruise ships are having the same problem?" Laura asked.

"No, I didn't mean that. But I believe there have been other occurrences on shore – food poisoning or whatever it is. My boss mentioned it the last time I talked to him."

Fenton mentally filed that little tidbit of information away for safekeeping. If this was happening on shore as well on the cruise ship, then it probably wasn't a disgruntled employee vendetta. It could be anything – sabotage, terrorism…no, not terrorism. No one had been killed, or even made seriously ill. This was more the act of a sicko trying to make a point. Just _what_ point he or she was trying to make, wasn't clear!

The uniform arrived, and Captain Lawson returned to his duties. Fenton stripped off his wet clothes, and Laura handed them over to a steward, who promised to do his utmost to get them dry by the time the _Royal Tahoe_ docked at Stateline. Fenton somewhat dubiously put on the white slacks and shirt with the logo on the pocket.

"These pants are a good two inches too short," he grumbled. "And too…wide!"

Laura couldn't help giggling at the way he looked. "Better that than pneumonia, especially on your vacation, honey," she commented. "They must not have anyone your size on the crew."

"Well, since that guy still hasn't come to, we might as well enjoy the rest of the cruise. Let's go back to the dining salon," Fenton suggested. "I think I've had enough of the top deck for a while."

Things had calmed down aboard the _Royal Tahoe_. When the Hardys rejoined their fellow passengers in the dining salon, they found most of them enjoying the view from the windows. A few people glanced at Fenton and smiled at his appearance in the borrowed uniform, but no one said anything, aside from a few murmured "glad you're okay" comments.

Laura and Fenton found a place beside one of the windows too, and gazed out at the serene blue lake. A few minutes later, they were joined by the Claremonts, Lisa and Randall.

"That was some excitement, no?" Randall's eyes were big with excitement behind his glasses. "Why did you chase the guy into the lake, Hardy?"

"Uh – well, uh—" Fenton stammered just a bit, then decided to come clean. "I'm a private investigator. I got curious about these mysterious attacks of illness aboard the ship, and I wanted to talk to him."

"Any ideas about what's causing them?" Randall wanted to know.

"Not yet," Fenton admitted. Then, making casual conversation, he turned the question back on Mr. Claremont. "Do you?"

"Oh yes!" Randall Claremont nodded decisively. "It might have been badly prepared food – you never can be sure, with these shipboard cooks! – and passengers with certain constitutions succumbed to it. Or maybe there's a flu bug going around, and by coincidence, people with it happened to be on the _Royal Tahoe_ at the same time. Of course, it might be mold, too – or perhaps some sort of bug that stung all these people!"

Fenton was biting his tongue, trying his best not to laugh at the earnest businessman's wild conjectures. "Those are – interesting ideas," he managed to say.

"What do you think?" Lisa asked Laura quietly. The two women had been listening to their husbands' conversation, and Lisa's face wore a slightly amused 'my husband, the idiot,' expression, but she had turned away so that he couldn't see it.

"I don't know," Laura admitted, shaking her head. "It's too random to see any connections yet, but so many occurrences on the same ship must mean it's something fairly big."

###

The two couples ordered coffee from one of the waiters, and the conversation turned to more general topics. The Claremonts were leaving Stateline the next day, to travel to the north end of the lake for a few days' stay, and were looking forward to seeing that part of the area.

Shortly before the end of the cruise, a crew member brought Fenton's clothes, now dried and pressed, to him, and he retired to a restroom to change. When he reappeared, and handed back the borrowed uniform, Laura surveyed him critically, then smiled.

"You look much better in those clothes, darling," she commented wickedly, and he blushed.

When they approached the gangplank to the dock at Stateline, Fenton had a proposition for his wife. "Laura, I'd like to talk to some of the people onshore about this. What would you say to dropping by the police station?"

"I'd say that as your partner, I'm happy to go along with your ideas," she replied drolly. "Seriously, though, it's a good idea. I'm fine with it."

Fenton halted at the top of the gangplank, for the waiter Miguel was there with several other crew members, assisting passenger to disembark from the ship. He drew him aside, and asked directions to the police station, hastily jotting down the information on some of the _Royal Tahoe's_ complimentary note paper.

Once back on shore, the Hardys set out along the beach, walking hand in hand. Working on solving a mystery they might be, but this was a vacation in Lake Tahoe, and no opportunity to enjoy themselves was to be missed.

After a time, Laura spoke. "Fenton…" Her voice was very quiet. "If I didn't happen to mention it before – I'm awfully glad you weren't hurt, jumping off the boat as you did." She slanted a look up at him. "However, you scared me half out of my wits, you know!"

"Honey, I'm sorry! It was just that I didn't want to lose him…and then, after he jumped in, I saw that he was in trouble, and I didn't even think…" Fenton's voice trailed off weakly, for Laura was regarding him with a somewhat stony expression.

"Honey?" He tried again, this time stopping and turning her around to face him. "Laura, you know I wasn't really risking anything; I know how to swim!"

"Lots of people drown that know how to swim." Her voice was muffled as he pulled her against him. "I thought – I was afraid…damn you, Fenton, do you have to give me heart attacks about your safety even on vacation?"

"Nope." Fenton's lips silenced her. There were no more words said for several moments. After a while, they resumed their trek along the sandy beach; Fenton's arm around her tightly, Laura's head resting on her husband's shoulder as they walked.

Eventually, they came up off the beach and found the street where the police station was located. Once more walking hand-in-hand, they approached the building. But as they neared it, a sudden _CRACK!_ split the evening's calm.

With the instincts honed by years of police and investigative work, Fenton reacted instantly. He shoved Laura sideways and down, flat on the ground, and flung himself protectively over her!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world.

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 7

 _You're not getting away!_ Joe Hardy tore down the shoreline of Lake Tahoe in pursuit of the fleeing dark-clad figure in the distance. Although the guy had a fair head start, Joe had confidence that he could catch him – after all, wasn't he one of the best running backs Bayport High had ever had? And there was more to it than just catching a criminal, of course – this creep had been all-too-instrumental in nearly killing Frank, just hours before! _Stealing stuff in broad daylight – he's asking to be caught…and I_ _will_ _catch him!_ Joe stretched his stride just a bit.

Up ahead, indistinct in the waning light, he could see his quarry, a man wearing dark clothing, and with something pulled over his head so that Joe was unable to glimpse a hair color. Joe was convinced it was the same man who had tried to push Frank off the pier; his pullover, although Joe couldn't see it too well, seemed to be the same as the one worn by the guy who had attacked Frank. That made this whole chase personal!

 _You're not getting away!_ Joe repeated the vow.

Rocks littered the sand, and Joe was constantly forced to change directions to avoid them, and the footing was unstable at best; the sand slithered underfoot, and Joe skidded sideways and nearly fell, more than once. He veered toward the water's edge, hoping for a harder surface to run on. _At least this guy's in the same boat; he can't run any faster in sand than I can!_ Joe wasn't sure he was making any progress as far as cutting the distance between them, although he wasn't dropping any further behind…but he was beginning to tire, and his breath was starting to come short. Once, an extremely unwelcome barrier at the end of a section of the beach loomed up in the twilight, but Joe had seen the other man scramble over it and keep running, so he followed suit.

 _Come on, come on you creep, you've got to be getting tired; you can't run all the way around the end of the lake…._ Joe was panting now. His strong point was sprinting, not long-distance running. _Wonder if Frank could have caught him…? Come on Hardy, you can manage a little more…._

To Joe's surprise, the fleeing man suddenly turned away from the water, and plowed through the sand, toward an alley leading to the street. Joe followed, sliding in the soft sand but determined to keep pace. And at last, he was closing the gap. Evidently the would-be thief had reached his limit; Joe was in better shape, physically, and had a little more endurance. People and traffic were interfering with the chase now, and Joe cherished the hope that he could catch his prey soon.

But when they reached cross-streets and alleyways, things took a turn for the worse. The man evidently was a local, and knew the streets, for he turned down one alley and into another – and despite Joe's best efforts at pursuit, he was suddenly gone, with no hint as to the direction he had last taken.

Angry and disappointed, Joe skidded to a halt at last, and kicked at the pavement in chagrin. He was totally winded, and his knees felt like rubber. Slowly, he turned and began to trudge back towards the beach.

When he reached the main street, however, he caught sight of a familiar figure – not the fleeing man, but his brother. Frank was looking sharply about as he jogged along the street, evidently attempting to spot Joe, and when he did so, he hurried to join him.

"L-lost…him…" Joe was still trying to get his breath back, and he felt his muscles tightening when he stopped moving.

"Walk it down," Frank advised, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder. "Take it easy, Joe; keep walking for a little bit, or you're going to cramp up."

"I – really – want – this guy!" Joe panted, after they'd gone a few more yards.

"I know. I do too," Frank agreed grimly. _I want him as badly as you do, brother mine…after all, it was_ _me_ _he pushed off the dock!_ "Let's get back to Vanessa and Megan….I wish I'd been closer; we might have caught him, between us. But it took a couple minutes for Vanessa to get to us, and by then he had too much of a head start."

Before they reached the girls, however, they were waylaid by a local patrolman, who demanded to know what happened. Joe explained that he had been chasing a man who had snatched a tourist's camera, in hopes of retrieving it.

"Why in Tarnation didn't you alert me?" the officer demanded. "Why'd you go chasing off after him yourself?"

Joe eyed him grimly, but managed to keep his response civil. "I never even saw you, until right now," he said evenly. "Otherwise, I'm sure I would have." _Maybe…if I thought about it. If I thought you could catch him yourself!_

"Well, wait here." The officer was already hauling out his two-way radio, and calling in the report. He was assured that a squad car was on its way, and that he should detain the witnesses. The boys sighed deeply, and Joe dropped to a seat on the curb. They were stuck for it, and they knew it…but at least it gave Joe a chance to sit and rest.

###

Megan and Vanessa reached them about the same time as the police squad car, which announced its arrival with a whirl of flashing light-bars and yipping siren. All the various witnesses were interviewed, beginning with the woman whose camera had been taken, and the other members of her party. They readily gave an account of the black-clad robber, but other than an impression of dark hair, could provide few details.

Joe described his chase through the sand and into the nearby streets, but was forced to admit that he had never gotten a close look at the thief.

"What I do know," Joe declared in an even voice, "is that he was fast! But a few more minutes, and I would have caught up with him."

Frank and Megan stated that they hadn't even seen him, and Vanessa only at a fair distance. Eventually, the questioning was done, and the police departed with their reports, leaving some very disappointed people behind.

"Well..." Vanessa had settled down on the curb beside Joe, and was gently rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe and relax him. "When you said you wanted to take a walk on the beach alone, I didn't realize you meant alone!" she teased him. His only response was a muffled growl. "We might have been better off staying in by the pool after all," Vanessa continued. "Why don't we go there now?"

"I think that's a very good idea," Megan immediately concurred. "Somehow, the beach doesn't feel very friendly tonight." She stooped to pat Joe's shoulder. "Come on, Joe, cheer up; you did your best."

Frank nodded agreement. "The girls are right; you did your best. Let's go in." He glanced at the sky. "We can watch what's left of the sunset from the balcony; it won't have the same ambiance as the beach, but it'll still be pretty."

"Fine with me," Joe sighed in dejection, and got to his feet. He draped an arm about Vanessa's shoulders as they trudged towards Caesars Palace.

###

The view of the sunset, from the balcony of the boys' room, was nearly as breathtaking as it might have been from the beach, and Joe eventually regained his usual insouciance and good humor. Frank filmed the sunset and the beach, and the boats coming into shore, panning up and down the shoreline to the limits of his telephoto abilities.

Something caught the elder Hardy's attention then, and he focused on it. The _Royal Tahoe_ was docked in her customary spot, and had evidently been there for some time, for there was a distinct lack of activity going on. Frank frowned. Where were his parents? They hadn't been in their room when the teens arrived at the hotel; he'd checked. A sense of disquiet made Frank's nerves twitch. He nervously panned up and down the stretch of beach once more, but saw no one in the least bit familiar.

"Joe? The _Royal Tahoe's_ back, but I don't see Mom or Dad anywhere on the beach."

"Maybe they went out to dinner," Joe suggested.

"They'd have checked in, don't you think?" Frank was feeling more and more uneasy. He wasn't sure why he felt that way – after all, his parents were grownups, they didn't have to answer to their children!

 _Maybe I'm jumping at shadows tonight_ , Frank sighed. _It's been that kind of day!_

"Maybe they decided to stop off in the casino for awhile?" Vanessa offered.

"The same thing holds; they'd have left us a message or something," Frank fretted. "Joe, you don't suppose anything's happened to them…do you?"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world.

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you Cherylann and Max2013 for bothering to read and post comments.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 8

Fenton Hardy sprawled on top of his wife's body and waited for more shots to be fired. But no more reports echoed, and after a few moments, the detective realized he was hearing something entirely different – peals of raucous laughter. Cautiously, he raised his head and looked for the source of the sound.

Across the street from where the Hardys lay, was parked an ancient 'beater' car, with three teenage boys seated in it. They were emitting shouts and catcalls and howls of ridicule, very evidently enjoying the spectacle of the tourist couple who had been so very alarmed by the sound of their car's backfiring engine! With a few more sharp backfires, the engine of the car caught, and the boys drove off down the street, the sounds of their laughter trailing behind them.

Fenton scrambled to his knees and reached to help Laura up.

"Honey, I'm sorry – so sorry—but I thought—" Fenton's apology was halted by the sight of Laura's face. She was laughing and shaking her head, apparently not hurt, and also, evidently not the least upset by having been flung facedown on a lawn.

"It's okay; it's okay." She brushed ineffectually at the grass stains on her skirt, then attempted to wipe a smudge of dirt from Fenton's cheek. She was laughing so hard she could barely get to her feet, as Fenton took her arm and tried to assist her, and tears of mirth stood in her eyes. "What those kids must have thought….We must have looked a sight!"

Fenton glowered for a moment, then sighed and joined in Laura's laughter. She was right – they probably _did_ look pretty silly…diving to the ground like that, just because they'd heard a car backfire! He brushed at his slacks, noting that they were beginning to look much the worse for wear after all the things he'd done today.

Hand in hand, and much more smudged and rumpled than before, the Hardys continued into the police station.

When they reached the front desk, Fenton introduced himself to the sergeant manning it, and told him that he'd become interested in the sudden spate of illnesses aboard the _Royal Tahoe_ and was attempting to investigate them.

The desk sergeant, however, was grumpily uncooperative. He had his own business to take care of, and he was in no mood to cater to curious tourists from back east, even if this man _did_ claim to be a private investigator. His replies to Fenton's questions were monosyllabic and uncommunicative; his attitude was plainly _Leave it to the local authorities, Bub!_

Finally, Fenton had had enough. He curtly demanded to talk to someone else; preferably someone of a higher rank. The desk sergeant rolled his eyes expressively, but acceded to the request, and summoned his superior.

Lieutenant Byron Hunt politely ushered the Hardys into his private office and offered them seats, then sat down himself, behind his desk. A man of medium height, with blonde hair going gray, and hazel eyes, Hunt appeared to be a little older than Fenton, and his expression indicated a man of good humor and kindness. He listened to what Fenton had to relate about their experiences aboard the _Royal Tahoe_ , and then thoughtfully responded.

"It's more than just the _Tahoe_ , Mr. Hardy. There have been more suspected poisonings, but not very many of them are getting reported. And of the ones which were reported, only two people saw their doctors."

"What? Why so few?" Laura blurted, surprised.

"Because," the lieutenant explained, "once they'd vomited, the victims usually felt quite a bit better. People who feel okay don't usually consult a doctor. The Nevada Department of Health was called in after the second… no, third, reporting. They've been running tests on the food samples that they took. 99% of it came up clean, nothing to it - but 1%, an apple pie that they picked up from the Grand Tahoe Resort, had an emetic – namely, zinc sulfate – in it."

"Zinc sulfate?" Fenton frowned at this news. "Why would someone purposely add something to food that is known to make people throw up? Physicians use that to cause people to vomit if they've ingested poison."

Hunt shrugged; it was obvious he was as confused about the mystery as Fenton was.

"Could I get a list of where and when the other victims fell ill?" Fenton requested.

Lieutenant Hunt eyed him speculatively. "You think I go around just handing out things like that to anyone who asks?" he asked in derision. "Even assuming I believe you're who you say you are – yes, yes, I know you can produce credentials; I didn't mean to imply you aren't Fenton Hardy of Bayport, New York – it isn't like we called you in to work on this case with the Stateline police, you know!"

"Lieutenant Hunt, I realize that I'm coming out of nowhere here, but I really am interested, and I would like to help if at all possible," Fenton coaxed. A little more wheedling finally produced results: Hunt opened the file folder pertaining to the case, and jotted down a short list of names, dates, and places, which he handed over to a grateful Fenton.

Shortly afterwards, the Hardys took their leave, and found themselves out in the warm evening air once more.

"It's still early," Laura commented, glancing around at the brightly lit shops lining the streets, and the throngs of tourists. "We can get in some shopping on our way back to the hotel."

"What? Shopping?" Fenton said in disbelief. "Laura, we're on a case, remember? We can't just go gallivanting off shopping—"

"All work and no play, darling," she said sweetly. "Besides, you can't go charging off to see those people at this time of night, anyway! And now that I think about it, I suspect most of them were tourists who may not even be in Stateline anymore!" She stepped into the shelter of a back-set doorway, pulling him to a stop perforce. "All work and no play, Fenton…" she repeated, and reached to wrap an arm about his neck, pulling his face down close to hers.

Passers-by ignored the couple kissing in the doorway, and eventually Laura and Fenton moved on down the street, window-shopping. Fenton made no more protests.

As they neared Caesars, Laura managed to move from window-shopping to going into a few of the boutiques and gift shops lining the street. In one which featured kitchenware, she discovered what she declared was the perfect gift for Fenton's sister Gertrude: a gold and porcelain teakettle, with a blue and gold crest on the side, bearing the legend _South Lake Tahoe._

"Fenton, it may only be August, but I'm starting my Christmas shopping right this minute – Gertrude will love this! It's absolutely perfect!"

"Mphm," was all the response she got from her husband. Picking out Christmas gifts for Gertrude was not Fenton's fortè; he'd left it to Laura for twenty years, and intended on keeping it that way.

While Laura was paying for the teakettle and having it carefully packed up, Fenton questioned some of the employees of the little store about the strange occurrences of illnesses happening in the community. To his surprise, he got differing stories. One salesgirl assured him that two people at the Portico Bar had become sick. The manager said no, it was two people staying at the Grand Tahoe Resort. Fenton compared this with the list Lieutenant Hunt had given him, and wondered ruefully if the best bet might not be to contact the Health Department. Nothing he was gleaning from all these questions seemed to match!

"I'm ready now." Laura nudged his elbow. She was carrying the large package with the teakettle in one arm, and the sack containing her coffee cups – which fortunately hadn't been damaged when Fenton flattened her earlier. He took the teakettle bundle, without comment.

Twilight was falling when they finally emerged back onto the street, and Fenton had a suggestion to make.

"What do you say we sit down and watch the sunset for awhile, before we head back to see what the kids are up to? There's a nice little bench over there." He pointed towards the lake shore.

"That sounds wonderful," Laura responded, tucking her free hand into her husband's arm. "I think I'd like some quiet time right about now."

They settled down on the bench, stowing their packages beneath it, and Fenton put his arm about Laura, cuddling her close. "Now if those blasted mosquitoes don't home in on us…" he muttered.

"I've put on insect repellent," she chuckled. Then, as his lips traveled over her hair down to her neck, she added, "of course, it may repel you, too!"

"Well…" Fenton's words came slowly, interspersed with the kisses he was planting along her jawline. "…in most instances…I really prefer your perfume…that Island Gardenia stuff you wear…but in this case…I'll make do…with DEET."

This struck Laura so funny that she burst out laughing, which somewhat spoiled the romance of the moment, but since Fenton appreciated his wife's sense of humor, it created something of a special joke between them, and they both referred to it several more times as they watched the first stars emerge from the deep-blue sky above the lake.

###

When they could put it off no longer, the Hardys reluctantly left their secluded little bench and walked into the bright opulence of Caesars Palace Hotel and Casino. They made their way through the glitter and clamor of the casino to the banks of elevators, and were wafted upwards to the floor where their rooms were.

But when they emerged from the elevator, they were startled to see both Frank and Joe in the hallway, evidently waiting for an elevator _down_!

"Mom! Dad!" Frank seized Laura's arms tightly, his face suffused with relief. "Where have you been?"

"We've been worried sick!" Joe chimed in.

Their parents exchanged bewildered glances. "Why were you worried?" Laura asked in confusion.

"We saw that the boat was docked, and you didn't come back…" Frank's voice trailed off in some embarrassment. He was beginning to realize he sounded pretty lame.

"We ran into a mystery on the cruise ship," Fenton began, just as Joe burst out with "Dad, we've run into a mystery here in Stateline!"

Laura, meanwhile was trying to remind Frank of something: "Frank, honey, we said we might be back late!"

"Oh…yeah. I guess I – um – forgot," Frank admitted sheepishly. Joe, hearing this, turned astonished, reproachful blue eyes on his brother, and Frank flushed.

"That's not exactly like you, son," Fenton commented with a grin.

"I had a good excuse," Frank defended himself. "We've had – quite a day."

Both boys began talking rapidly, attempting to fill their parents in on the strange occurrences which had befallen them during the day. Fenton and Laura listened, shocked that someone had tried to hurt Frank merely to steal his camcorder.

"Son, maybe you'd better leave that camera in the hotel tomorrow," Fenton advised.

"No!" Frank shook his head determinedly. "I bought it to take pictures of this trip, and that's what I'm going to do. And no half-witted robbery attempt is going to stop me!"

###

They walked up the quiet, carpeted corridor to the room Frank and Joe were sharing; Laura ducked quickly into her own room to leave her packages, while Frank unlocked his door. Finally, all four Hardys gathered in the boys' room, finding Megan and Vanessa still seated on the balcony admiring the view. The girls greeted Fenton and Laura, emphasizing how relieved they were to see them back safely.

"We didn't have any idea you were worried about us," Laura tried to reassure them. "We really did tell Frank we might be late."

"I remember that now," Frank muttered. "But so many weird things had been happening, it sort of slipped my mind."

"Tell us about the mystery on board the cruise ship!" Joe pressed, sprawling across one of the beds, while his parents seated themselves in chairs near the table. Frank sat down on the couch and beckoned Megan over, patting the seat next to him invitingly. Vanessa perched on the end of the other bed.

Laura and Fenton related the story while their listeners sat mesmerized. When they got to the part where Fenton had leaped into Lake Tahoe after the fleeing crewman, the girls gasped in shock, and Joe yelped "You WHAT?"

"Why are you so surprised?" his father demanded, grinning. "Think you're the only Hardy allowed to take a risk occasionally?" He resumed his narrative, leaving out the part about the car backfire, and the view of the sunset, however. There were _some_ things he didn't feel it necessary to share with his sons.

"Let's hear the details of your day again," Fenton requested, when he reached the end of his story. Frank and Joe complied, taking turns talking about what had happened, with an occasional comment from Megan or Vanessa added.

When the story reached its conclusion, a thoughtful silence descended on the group, to be broken by Joe.

"It's weird how such a small place as Stateline could have two big problems like this at the same time," he commented.

Laura and the girls shared amused looks. Not one of them was surprised to have run into two mysteries like this – it was pretty typical of a Hardy vacation, after all!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann and Max2013, for your commentary.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 9

Frank Hardy opened his eyes, blinked in the dim light seeping around the hotel window shades, and turned his head to look at the clock on the night table. _Seven-eighteen…._ He smiled, relieved. It was still early – too early to have to get up, and definitely too early to stir around and disturb Joe! He let his eyes close, and relaxed into the comfort of the pillows once more. Drowsily, he let his mind rove back over the past few days, seeing images against his shuttered eyelids as if a series of slides were being projected on a screen inside his head.

 _Arriving here in Nevada, at the Reno airport; Megan dragging her little wheeled carry-on bag along the jetway as they disembarked from the plane…. The drive to Stateline, with six of them crammed into the largest rental car Fenton had been able to obtain, Vanessa all but sitting on Joe's lap, to make room for luggage….Vanessa's blue-gray eyes sparkling with delight, trying to look in every direction at once as they made their way through the casino, that first day, and Joe handing Laura a handful of quarters, saying "Mom, play 'em for me! I'll split any winnings with you!"…. Megan, wearing a brilliant teal-blue shirt and white shorts, sitting cross-legged on the grass outside the hotel, watching enraptured as the South Tahoe Shakespearean Players did scenes from_ _Julius __Caesar_ _…._ Frank's mouth curved into a fond smile as he pictured it in his mind.

Now the images began to take on a darker hue, as Frank reviewed the previous day: _That walk on the beach, and Vanessa's problems with sand in her shoes…. The man in the dark glasses who had ridden the aerial tram to Heavenly with them…the attack on the dock…the strange occurrences his parents had witnessed aboard the Royal Tahoe…Joe's unsuccessful pursuit of the thief…. The unlikelihood of the thefts, in such a small place as Stateline, even if it_ _was_ _a tourist Mecca!_ Regretfully, Frank opened his eyes. There wasn't much use trying to stay in bed, he decided; he was too wide awake now.

He sat up, experimentally rolling his shoulder to test it. It still ached a little from the strain he'd put it through the day before, hanging from the dock, but otherwise he felt fine. Quietly, he got out of bed and went to the 'living room' area of their room. As he did so, Joe rolled over and let out a soft, snuffly little snore, then subsided once more into his pillow, sound asleep. Frank smiled. _He could sleep through a tornado if he really wanted to!_

Sitting down at the table, Frank opened his laptop computer. He had decided to do a little research on those thefts, since there didn't seem to be any _other_ leads to follow at the moment. He pulled up one of the local newspapers, searching for any police reports from the day before. He glanced across the room at Joe once or twice, but the younger boy didn't seem to be disturbed by the occasional soft tap-click of the keys or the mouse.

To Frank's not-too-great surprise, there were articles regarding the rash of thefts in the _Reno Times Online_ , as well as the police reports. From what he could gather, in a swift overview, several things stood out. One, there hadn't been a major crime wave in Stateline since 1982. _Nice, peaceful little town…_ he mused. _Good for the tourist trade_. Although there were of course, minor crimes taking place, as always seemed to be the case anywhere you went, it was usually of the petty, opportunistic sort. A tourist would set down a camera for a moment, and someone would walk by and pick it up. People would park their cars near a deserted stretch of beach, and go for a dip in the lake or a walk; while they were so engaged, someone might break open a car trunk and rifle their belongings for anything salable. Occasionally, a hotel might report a theft or two by an employee, or even more rarely, a robbery committed by one member of a party on another. But wholesale robbery? Brazen thefts in public, in daylight? NO!

This time, the situation was different. Frank read the police reports carefully. One diamond-studded Rolex watch – appraised at $1600 – owned by Mrs. Margaret Turndale of Chesapeake, Maryland, who was visiting in South Lake Tahoe. One digital camera, valued at $465, stolen from Mr. Adam Lloyd, of Sonoma, California, also vacationing in the area. One camcorder, cost $1200, taken from Rina Green of Reno, who had been filming a documentary on the Tahoe region. And there was _his_ report, one attempted theft of a camcorder from Frank Hardy of Bayport, New York, attempt foiled by intervention. All the witnesses reported the same general description of the thief – fairly tall, dark clothing, dark hair, Caucasian, wearing sunglasses. The description was too vague to be much help, Frank thought with resignation. It could describe _him!_

Frank glanced at the time, and decided to go take a shower, so as to be out of the way when Joe finally managed to awaken. He was pleased with what he had found out, even though the description of the robber was so general. Perhaps he could talk to some of these other victims, and compare notes! Discussing the incidents might help them remember further details, after all.

###

Perhaps ten minutes later, Frank emerged from the bathroom, clad only in plaid boxers, a towel slung over one still-wet shoulder. His dark hair was shoved back from his face, but dripped down the back of his neck, and he rubbed at it absently as he walked.

To Frank's surprise, Joe was sitting up in bed, sleepily rubbing at his face, and yawning. Wavy blonde hair straggled over his forehead, and he pushed it out of his eyes enough to look malevolently at his older brother.

"Morning!" Frank said cheerfully. He knew Joe hated it when he was bright and cheery in the mornings.

Joe's muttered response would have been unintelligible to most people, but Frank had lived with him for 18 years. Loosely translated, the basic meaning was: ' _Morning; don't talk to me; leave me alone.'_

"Going to get up now?" Frank encouraged, grinning. "It's after eight."

This time the mumbled words were a little clearer. "Too early…this is supposed to be a vacation!" But Joe stopped rubbing his eyes, and reluctantly pushed back his covers. He stood up and stumbled towards the bathroom with his eyes three-quarters shut. Frank laughed, and sat down on his bed to finish drying his hair.

Wandering back over to the table, he clicked on the headline news for the _Stateline_ _Gazette_ – and froze, staring at the lead story: _MURDER IN STATELINE!_

Frank sank into a chair, not taking his eyes from the screen as he avidly pursued the story. _Evan Reed, age 25, was found dead in the woods behind Caesars Palace Amphitheater_ – _Caesars!?_ Frank's eyes widened in shock _– the night before, the victim of multiple stab wounds…_

At that moment, a knock sounded on the door. Frank jumped, startled, then hastily grabbed his robe from where it lay on the end of his bed and flung it on. When he opened the door, he found his father standing there.

"Morning, Frank." Fenton looked a bit grim. "Have you seen the news headlines this morning?"

Frank nodded, and led the way to his laptop. "I was just reading about it."

Fenton set down the folded newspaper he was holding, and spread it open on the bed. Words screamed from the front page of the _Tahoe Daily Tribune_ , essentially the same as those in the _Gazette_.

Frank resumed reading the computer screen. The article went on to state that Evan Reed was from Carson City, Nevada, and had worked as a parking valet for the Grand Tahoe Resort. His body had been found around eleven p.m. the night before, by a tourist, Jackson Sandoval, whose dog had escaped his leash and run into the woods behind the Amphitheater. It concluded by saying that the Stateline police were investigating, and the coroner's report was still pending.

Frank looked over at his father. "Dad, do you think this has anything to do with either of our cases? Or is it something totally unrelated, and we're just unlucky enough to be here when there's a crime spree going on?"

Fenton frowned. "Why would anyone kill a valet? If people are getting killed, then there's something more serious going on than just a string of robberies, or someone contaminating food. As I see it, this murder either has something to do with one or the other of our cases – or it was personal. Stabbing, now – that's usually personal…more personal than a bullet to the head."

At that moment the door to the bathroom opened, and Joe emerged, enveloped in a large white towel. He peered curiously at his father and brother between dangling damp strands of hair, noting their serious expressions, and said: "Hey Dad – what's up? You guys look awfully…grim."

"Now it's not just food poisoning and robberies," Frank said tersely. "It's murder." He indicated the newspaper lying on the bed, and then tapped his laptop screen. "And it happened right outside our hotel!"

Joe moved further into the room, clutching at his towel with one hand, and glanced hastily at the articles. His eyes lighted with excitement, and he started to punch one fist into his other palm, then made a hasty grab at his towel to keep from losing it. "We must have just missed nabbing the killer, Frank!"

"How so?" Frank asked. "Do you mean the guy that snatched the camera?"

"Hold on, you don't know that," Fenton cautioned him at the same time. "You're jumping to conclusions. That stabbing might have occurred days ago, and the body just dumped there last night."

"I don't think so," Frank disagreed. "If that were true, there would have been some mention of Evan Reed being missing, and his body found. There's nothing like that in the articles."

Fenton stood up, heading for the door. "Well, you two had better get dressed. We can try to sort out all the mysteries after breakfast. If we keep our ladies waiting too long, I, for one, am not going to be held responsible for the consequences!" He grinned back at his sons and departed. Frank and Joe exchanged glances, and hurried to comply.

#####

The Hardys, Megan, and Vanessa were soon assembled at a large table in the hotel's enormous coffee shop. Megan and Vanessa were clad in shorts and brightly colored shirts, Vanessa's long hair held back by an exotically-hued wide ribbon headband. Laura wore cream-colored slacks and a pastel tee-shirt, while Fenton had opted for a golf shirt and twill slacks. Frank was wearing khaki shorts and a dark green shirt, which had made Joe snort "You look like a park ranger!' when he saw it; Joe himself had gone with cargo shorts and a blue t-shirt, which made his eyes look even more startlingly-blue than usual.

As they waited for their breakfast orders to be brought to the table, the Hardys could hear subdued conversations from nearby tables. The main topic of conversation seemed to be, naturally enough, the murder, with some mention of the robberies added in. There was more than one person who could be heard saying "Maybe we'd better cut this short and go home…who knows who might be next ?" The six at the Hardys' table exchanged sober glances…this was becoming serious.

"Well—" Laura endeavored to get the conversation started with some degree of normalcy, as they were served. "What're the plans for today?"

"I'm going to go back to the police station," Fenton replied immediately, starting to eat his hash browns. "And see if I can talk to Lieutenant Hunt again."

"I don't think there's much we can do, as far as pursuing the robbery case," Frank admitted ruefully. "All we have to go on is that description – and that fits who knows how many people in town! We may have to wait until something else is stolen – that sounds funny, doesn't it?" he added, smiling. "It makes it sound like I want something else to be stolen!"

Laura's eyes twinkled. "I meant, what sort of vacation activities were being planned," she reminded them gently. "I didn't mean the investigative battle plans!"

Megan dimpled, and winked at Vanessa. "I think I can come up with something to keep us busy," she murmured, and applied herself assiduously to her Eggs Benedict.

Joe sat and munched waffles, feeling torn. He knew he should stay with Vanessa, but he ached to go along with his father to the police station, to find out more about the guy who had been killed. Pursuing a mystery sounded like a lot more fun than seeing tourist sites around Stateline…. "That stabbed guy might have been involved in the robberies – or the poisonings…the police might know…." he mused aloud, then flushed when they all stared at him.

Vanessa gave him a long, knowing look, and laughed. "Joe, if you want to go with your dad instead of staying with us, then go, for goodness' sake! I'm not going to get my feelings hurt that easily."

"No – no, babe!" Joe answered hastily. "I could never leave you like that!" He winked at her, and took a gulp of orange juice.

"I promise, I'll fill you in on everything I find out at the police station," Fenton vowed. "And I'll ask about the thefts as well. But you four are supposed to be on vacation, and having a good time, remember? So try to get out and have some fun!"

"We will!" Megan promised him with her most captivating smile, and he reached across the table to rumple her red-gold curls affectionately. Frank wasn't the only Hardy male Megan had succeeded in enchanting.

"Ideas for things to do, then?" Vanessa prodded the little redhead. "You're the one with the tourist guide, after all!"

"I still want to see Vikingsholm Castle," she replied. "But rather than walking there, I wondered whether we might rent bikes. We'd still have to make it back up, but at least the ride down would be fun!"

Joe emitted a pathetic whimper of protest that brought gusts of laughter to all his listeners, but Frank was considering Megan's proposal more seriously. "Bikes might be fun – whether we go to Vikingsholm or not," he commented.

Vanessa was nodding too, and Joe, after a moment's consideration while he ate more of his waffle, agreed.

"Bikes would be okay," he concurred. "It would be good to get some more exercise. Just not all uphill…" he continued in a lower tone. "And I also want to rent jet skis and go flying across the lake!" he added, more enthusiastically.

"Well, let's see about renting bikes after we're done eating, then," Frank said. "And maybe check out the jet-ski rental places too, for later."

Laura and Fenton finished first, and got to their feet. "I'll take care of this," Fenton told the boys, picking up the check. "Your mother and I are going to go down to the police station now. Why don't we try to meet back here at noon, and we'll fill you in on anything I might have found out."

"We might have found out," Laura amended smilingly. "You kids have fun this morning," she continued, smoothing Frank's hair and then dropping a light kiss on Joe's cheek. "And we'll see you later."

###

The four teens blinked when they walked out of Caesars into the bright sunshine, and Vanessa and Megan immediately reached for their dark glasses. They turned south, and began to make their way toward the California side of Stateline, where most of the 'tourist' attractions were. After a few blocks' walk, they reached a concrete post erected between the sidewalk and the street, with a small sign attached which informed passers-by that this marked the dividing line between the two states.

"I want a picture of that!" Megan announced, delving into her tote bag for her little disposable camera. In fact, she got several pictures, with the boys and Vanessa posing and mugging for the camera, standing with 'one foot in each state,' and Frank obligingly recorded film footage, too.

As they resumed their trek for the bike rental stands, Frank lagged behind, attempting to get some good shots of Joe, Vanessa, and Megan as they walked. He was just shutting the camera off once again when he heard a noise behind him.

Glancing back, the elder Hardy saw a man wearing dark clothing and a visored helmet revving up the engine of a powerful-looking motorbike. Gunning the motor, the guy suddenly took off, and drove directly at the astonished Frank!

Taken by surprise, Frank barely managed to get out of the way. He felt the hot breath of exhaust on his leg as he leaped aside, and the sound of the engine's roar filled his ears. As he came down, he landed awkwardly on one foot, and tripped over the curbing. Instinctively clutching at the precious camera, Frank couldn't put out a hand to halt his fall. He landed hard on the sidewalk, and his head cracked solidly against the pavement….where he continued to lie, unmoving.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world.

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Ides of August

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 10

Fenton and Laura strolled along the sidewalk towards the Stateline police station, hand in hand. _It's enjoyable to be able to combine business and pleasure,_ the detective admitted to himself, letting his thoughts roam. _Laura's fun to be with – always – and she's got a good head on her shoulders as far as cases go, too…._

He continued to ponder as they walked along, trying to find a way to tie everything together. How did the murder, the poisonings, and the thefts correlate? Or did they? Could it be that they were all just coincidences? Nothing seemed to fit together – it was all too chaotic! The murder might possibly go with one or the other – but nothing tied the poisonings and the thefts, they were simply too – _different_!

"What do you think you'll find out from the police?" Laura asked him, a welcome interruption to his troubled thoughts.

"I'm just hoping to get more information," he replied. "I read through that list Lieutenant Hunt gave me last night, but I haven't figured out any connection yet. They're all different sorts of places – and when I tried to look them up on the Web last night, I hit a roadblock."

But when they walked into the police station, it was to a scene of utter chaos. People seemed to be hurrying all over, on various errands, all with frowns of concentration or consternation on their faces. Telephones were ringing constantly. The Hardys went to the front desk, and found someone different manning it, naturally enough, since the shifts would have changed.

"Excuse me," Fenton addressed the sergeant, a good-looking man with dark hair and large dark eyes, whose name badge read 'Jesse Galvanos.' "Is Lieutenant Hunt in, by any chance? And if so, could we speak to him?"

"Sorry," Sergeant Galvanos shook his head. "We're really busy here this morning, dealing with the Caesars Palace murder, and Lieutenant Hunt's gone to Reno, to get the medical examiner's findings from the autopsy." The sergeant glanced at his wristwatch. "He should be back pretty soon, though."

"Reno?" Laura asked curiously.

"Yes, ma'am, Reno. That's where the closest crime-scene unit is based," the sergeant informed her courteously. But he looked inquiring. "Why do you want to know – and what do you know about all this?"

Fenton explained about their having been aboard the _Royal Tahoe_ the day before, and that he had talked to the Lieutenant the previous evening and gotten information from him; and that he had come by in hopes of getting more. He produced the list Hunt had given him, and showed it to the sergeant.

Galvanos read the list and nodded. "I remember these; I took one of the reports myself," he said. "I'll give you what I can, but there's not too much more available, I'm afraid."

"What I really need to know," Fenton told him, "is whether any of these places have anything in common with any of the others!"

To the detective's surprise, Galvanos nodded again, and grinned. "I can tell you that right now: yes, they do!" he said. "They're all owned by Cameron Jacobs, a local bigwig in the area. And he happens to own the _Royal Tahoe_ , too."

"Now that's interesting!" Fenton said, meaning it. He leaned over the partition, fixing Jesse Galvanos with his best warm, interested, tell-me-all-you-know expression. "Do you think someone might have a grudge against Jacobs? A vendetta?"

The sergeant shook his head. "I'd be very surprised if anyone did, although I admit it looks suspicious," he said. "Sure, people with Jacobs' kind of money can hold grudges, but he's one of the more upstanding casino owners in the community – and from what I've heard, he's a good employer. At any rate, he has a very low turnover rate among his employees."

 _Hmmm…still, someone may be out to ruin Jacobs' business…._ Fenton mused to himself _. Business rivals!_ "Do you have any idea how much business Jacobs has lost due to the food poisoning incidents?" he asked.

"No, sir; I don't keep track of things like that – sorry," Galvanos apologized. "The Lieutenant probably knows. He keeps track of all kinds of things that I don't know."

"I think it would be very difficult to accomplish," Laura observed. "I don't see how one person could get to the food in so many places."

"You're right, ma'am; I don't see how either," the sergeant agreed.

"Well, perhaps I can talk to Mr. Jacobs," Fenton said, more to himself than to either Laura or Galvanos. "Thanks for your time, Sergeant. If you would, just tell Lieutenant Hunt that I stopped by…thanks." He and Laura departed.

Once more out on the sidewalk, they wandered somewhat desultorily down the street. Fenton clasped his wife's fingers, but with his free hand he was rubbing the back of his neck and thinking hard. _Maybe Laura's right about it not being one person…maybe it's more than one person….Business rivals…. I really need to ask Jacobs about it._ He lifted his head, from where he had been staring at the pavement, and met Laura's encouraging gaze.

"Want to take a little detour to the Grand Tahoe Resort?" he asked, grinning.

#####

 _Ow – ow – ow! Ooooh, my head!_ Frank lay sprawled on the sidewalk, holding his head and blinking dazedly in the bright sunlight. He rubbed at the sorest spot, and winced. Somehow, he'd managed to not land on his camcorder – again. _I'm lucky I didn't knock myself out, falling like I did – it blasted well_ _hurts_ _, though!_

A sudden flurry of footsteps announced the arrival of friendly forces, and Frank found himself surrounded.

"Frank!" Joe and Megan were both crouching beside him, and Vanessa was hovering over Joe's shoulder. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

"I'm fine – I'm fine," Frank tried to reassure them. "I've got a headache the size of China, but I'll live." He sat up, letting Joe aid him, grateful for his brother's solid shoulder to lean against for a moment or two.

"Did that loony on the motorbike actually try to run you down?" Joe growled, gazing into the distance, after the long-gone assailant. He hit his clenched fist into his palm again. "That was just plain malicious! Why would someone try to run over you – they didn't even try for the camera, this time, did they?"

"No," Frank responded tiredly. "The guy came out of nowhere. If I hadn't turned around when I did, he'd have sent me flying."

"Do you think it was the same man who tried to hurt you yesterday, Frank?" Megan's large eyes filled with concern as she held her boyfriend's arm.

Frank shrugged. "I don't know, baby. Maybe it was just a local having fun with a tourist. Maybe it was the same guy. I was too busy trying to get out of the way to tell."

Joe was definitely not happy, and his mood showed clearly in the glint in his blue eyes. "I'm gonna find that guy and pound him!" he vowed, scowling.

Vanessa chuckled. "You'd better keep that temper in check, boy, or you'll get us all in trouble!" she warned. "This isn't Bayport, remember."

They helped Frank to his feet. He winced at the change in position, and swayed, but steadied after a moment. His hand sought out the knot rising on the back of his head, touching it gingerly.

"Let's take a look at that…" Joe's fingers were gentle on the swelling. "Do you want to go back to the hotel and lie down?" he asked.

"No!" Frank denied firmly. "I'm fine; it's just a bump! But—" he paused, reflecting. "—but maybe riding bikes isn't such a hot idea right now. I'm sorry, baby…tomorrow, maybe?" he turned to Megan, his eyes asking forgiveness.

"Tomorrow would be fine," she assured him, and Joe and Vanessa concurred. Riding bikes wasn't a good idea if Frank's head was hurting. They'd find something else to do, instead.

"How would you feel about fishing?" Vanessa inquired, gesturing towards the lake. "There are places where you can rent tackle and bait – ever fished, Meggie?" she asked her friend.

"Nooooo…" Megan sounded a little dubious, but she was willing to try anything once. "Sure, that would be fine. Frank, what do you think?"

He smiled. "I think my head would feel much better if I went fishing."

Joe made a quick run back to Caesars, to leave a message telling of their altered plans for Laura and Fenton, while Frank found a shady spot to sit and recover a bit more; then the teens made their way to one of the nearby fishing docks. While Joe and Vanessa arranged for the renting of poles and such, Frank and Megan surveyed the neighboring jet-ski rental outfit.

"That looks like a lot of fun," Frank observed.

"I remember you said you'd like to do it, yesterday," Megan said, just as Joe and Vanessa arrived. Joe saw where they were looking, and his face lit up.

"We have to try that out, it would be a blast!" he exclaimed.

Vanessa broke into peals of laughter. "Joe, we have so many different things we want to do, we'll have to stay ten extra days, just to get them all done!"

He grinned exuberantly at her. "Sounds okay to me!"

They found spots on the fishing dock, and began the process of baiting their hooks and actually preparing to fish. Megan didn't mind the worms, as such, but squeezed her eyes shut when Frank demonstrated putting it on the hook.

"You can't tell me it doesn't hurt it!" she protested, but once the worm was impaled and cast into the water, she was too busy concentrating on putting it where she wanted it, to worry much about the worm's sensibilities.

Vanessa and Joe were racing to see who could get a rod baited fastest, and Joe wasn't above cheating to win. "Van-esssssssaaaaaa…." Joe seized an extra worm, and held it out, tantalizingly. "Nice, squirmy, slippery wormy…how would it feel, slithering down your shirt…hmmm?" he teased, taking a step or two towards his girlfriend, who responded with strident shrieks and a fairly-hard slap at his hand, which caused Joe to drop the worm.

'Kiss-and-make-up' took some time, and indeed, for a while it looked as if Joe and Vanessa were more interested in making up than fishing. But eventually they returned to the business at hand.

Mid-morning of a sunny day wasn't the best time to catch fish, but it made for a pleasant, relaxing time for all four of them. After a bit, Frank set down his fishing rod, and put an arm about Megan, ostensibly guiding her endeavors, but in actuality, merely enjoying having his arms around her. She put her head against his shoulder and felt him drop a kiss on her hair.

"Mmmm….nice," she murmured. Then, suddenly, "Hey! What…?"

"You've got a bite!" Frank exclaimed, and tightened his hands over hers on the rod. "You've got a fish on, Megan!"

At almost the same time, Joe yelped with excitement; he, too had one on the line. With Frank aiding Megan and Vanessa encouraging Joe, both couples landed their fish successfully…and very nice-sized they were, too.

"Now what?" Megan demanded, as the fish flapped and flopped on the ends of the lines. "What do we DO with them?"

"Well, if we're going to eat them, we have to gut and clean them—" Joe began, teasingly holding his fish close to Megan, so that water droplets spattered her, and she was smacked with its tail.

"Ack, get it away from me!" she sputtered. "Gut and clean them? No, thank you very much."

"My mama didn't raise no fish-cleaners," Vanessa drawled. "I vote for catch-and-release, guys."

"We don't have any place to cook them anyhow," Frank admitted regretfully. "But at least we caught them!" He was grinning with delight, his headache miraculously gone.

With the fish duly returned to the water, the teens turned in their fishing tackle and decided to head for the hotel, to get cleaned up before meeting Laura and Fenton for lunch.

"Do some more filming, Frank!" Joe called, and swung into a handstand on the dock. Frank obligingly turned on the camcorder and filmed Joe's attempts to walk on his hands, flinching a bit when he teetered perilously close to the edge of the wharf.

"Frank, let me film you," Megan requested, holding out her hands. Embarrassed but acquiescent, he handed her the camera and dropped into a karate stance. He performed a few katas, finishing up by making ferocious faces at the camera lens, to the accompaniment of Megan's giggles. Then he walked closer and closer, slowly, until he reached his girlfriend, and bent down to kiss her. Megan attempted to film the sequence, but eventually was forced to 'fade to black.'

When she finally came up for air, she refused to relinquish the camera, this time turning it on Joe and Vanessa, who had taken the opportunity for an up-close-and-personal moment of their own. Silently, the little redhead let the camcorder run, preserving the tender scene: Joe with his arms tightly encircling Vanessa, her head tilted to rest against his, and his lips touching her forehead.

As she turned away from Joe and Vanessa, Megan's eyes lighted up, for she spotted a jet-ski rapidly approaching the dock. She focused the camcorder on the incoming vehicle, and filmed its noisy arrival, starting to step back as a wave of water splashed up.

Before any of them could move, the man aboard the jet ski reached out, grabbed Megan's foot, and pulled hard, yanking her off balance. She screamed involuntarily, as she went flying backwards, her body arcing out over the water.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world.

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 11

Fortunately for Megan, Joe Hardy had excellent reflexes, and was standing near. He had already been moving towards the jet-ski before the attack, and when Megan was yanked from her feet, it only took one leap to reach her.

Joe seized Megan's arm and jerked, hard. Her mid-air flight abruptly took a different direction, and she was catapulted back towards the dock, where she collided solidly with Vanessa. Both girls went down, in a tangled confusion of arms, legs, and muffled cries.

The helmeted attacker revved the engine of his jet-ski, and swung about sharply, aiming his watercraft out into open water. His hand moved on the throttle, and he was off, scudding across the lake's surface, plumes of spray spreading in his wake.

Frank had started towards Megan, but as her assailant fled, he swerved towards an unoccupied jet-ski nearby. Revenge was a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wanted above all else to catch this guy and punish him!

"Hey! Here! Go after him!" came a shout, and the lanky young operator of the Jet-ski outlet, who looked to be about the Hardys' age, was tossing a tagged key toward Frank. "Go get the bas-" His words were swallowed up in the roar of a passing motorboat, but Frank got his meaning, loud and clear. He caught the keys, then glanced back at Megan and Vanessa, uncertainly, but Joe was shoving him towards the jet-ski.

"Go on – I'll look after them. Hurry up!" Joe gave him another push, and obeying his brother's words and his own deepest impulses, Frank jumped onto the saddle of the watercraft, shoved the key into the ignition, and twisted the throttle as the engine roared to life. He swung away from the dock and accelerated out across the lake, in furious pursuit.

###

"Vanessa…Megan…?" With Frank's departure a certainty, Joe turned his attention to the girls, who were disentangling themselves, rubbing various parts of their anatomies. "Are you guys okay?"

"Yes, I think so…" "Yeah, just shaken up." Both girls were nodding.

Joe assisted Megan to her feet first, since she had ended up on top. She smiled at him, but he felt her trembling. "That was – scary," she admitted, and he hugged her reassuringly before turning to Vanessa.

"That was not only scary, it was criminal!" Vanessa exclaimed, as Joe extended a hand to help her up. "You could have been hurt badly – and at the least, you'd have ended up soaking wet, and it would have ruined Frank's…" Her voice died away in shock, then she took a deep breath and started sputtering anew. "That camera again! What is it with that camera?"

Megan stared down at the little box hanging from its strap about her neck. "It's just a camcorder, isn't it?"

"It's new, and it's a nice model, but it's certainly not worth all this!" Joe said hotly. "It's like this guy's picked on Frank to torment, or something! There's nothing special about the camera!"

"Why would someone want to…?" Megan paused. With the Hardys, a reason wasn't always necessary. Things just happened; people surfaced with long-held grudges, circumstances dropped them into wacky situations, someone needed help…or someone decided they were somehow a threat. This looked like the latter – but what threat did her boyfriend pose this time?

###

Frank, meanwhile, was speeding out over the waters of Lake Tahoe. He had ridden a jet-ski before, but not often, and he had to concentrate fiercely on what he was doing. Out in front of him, much too far away for his satisfaction, he could see the other rider, his foe, bouncing across the water at a dangerous rate of speed. Frank twisted the throttle on his handlebars and picked up the pace a notch, undeterred by the water being kicked up by his own craft, which was hitting him in the face and occasionally dousing him completely.

 _That guy has to be the one behind all the thefts – he has to be! And he just tried to hurt Megan! NOBODY hurts Megan and gets away with it – nobody!_ Conveniently, the elder Hardy ignored the times that someone _had_ done exactly that, with him unable to do anything in retaliation. Frank shook his head, impatiently clearing his eyes of water once more. He realized he was going to have to do some fancy riding to catch his prey; this guy was more experienced with a jet-ski than he was. But Frank was angry – _more_ than angry; he was furious. The man had not only attempted to hurt Megan, he had also tried to kill Frank – _twice_! And Frank still had no idea why.

Up ahead, the other rider suddenly banked his jet-ski around in a wide half-circle and leaned over the handlebars, almost standing up on his watercraft. Frank squinted, unsure just what this maneuver was going to accomplish, but he tried to follow suit, and leaned forward as well, heading straight for his quarry.

Just as Frank was nearing the other craft, however, the man banked it sharply to the left, veering off and creating a monstrous backwash which caused Frank's hands to lose their grip on the handlebars. It nearly washed him completely off the jet-ski, and _did_ cause his speed to slacken drastically, as he lost hold of the throttle. Frank desperately clutched for handholds, and managed to straighten out the little watercraft, then twisted the throttle, accelerating once more in hot pursuit.

The man appeared to be heading for a nearby dock, and Frank followed him, trying to watch out for tricks, but still increase his speed enough to catch up. The other rider slowed briefly next to the dock, then swung his craft about and headed out into the lake once more, this time aiming straight for Frank!

Not about to fall for this maneuver, Frank held his position. He could see something dangling from the man's left hand, but couldn't quite make out what it was. As his enemy approached, Frank finally identified the mysterious object – it was a length of rope, evidently picked up from the dock. The other rider swung close to Frank's jet-ski, and abruptly flung the rope at him!

Frank swerved automatically, in an attempt to avoid this snare, and again lost his grip on the handlebars. This time, his frantic clutches closed only on air, and Frank found himself tumbling into the cold waters of the third deepest lake in North America!

 _Cold! So cold! Freezing cold!_ Frank struggled against the shock of the chill waters. Even now, in mid-August, the lake temperature out here in the middle couldn't be much above 65 degrees, and to Frank, it felt more like 40! His clothes weighed him down, threatening to pull him beneath the waves still chopping from the jet-skis' passage. Doggedly, he trod water, kicking off his shoes to lessen the weight, and shaking the drops from his eyes, peering about to get his bearings.

Luck was with him – his abandoned jet-ski, throttled down automatically when his hands left the handlebars, was floating in the water a short distance away. Frank marshaled his strength and struck out for the little craft. When he reached it, he thankfully pulled himself aboard, and slumped forward, completely winded, his heart pounding in his chest. He was shivering with cold and shock, but anger and disbelief kindled fiery embers deep inside – he'd lost the guy _again_! After a few minutes, when he'd regained his breath, Frank disconsolately started up the jet-ski, swung it about, and headed back for the dock whence he had started – defeated once more.

#####

Fenton and Laura strolled along the sidewalk, heading for the Grand Tahoe Resort Hotel and Casino. Since the distance was less than a mile from the police station, they had decided to walk, and now proceeded, hand-in-hand, discussing the Caesars Palace murder as they went.

"There may be more here than the police want to admit," Fenton observed now, a grim set to his mouth. "It's not unheard of for organized crime to move into even these smaller places, although I believe it's more prevalent in Las Vegas. Nothing to say that someone's not attempting to move into the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe."

"True," Laura agreed quietly, allowing him to continue his musing aloud.

"Perhaps someone's trying to shake Jacobs off – poison a few people, start a crime spree of thefts, murder one of his employees less than a mile from his resort – it's something the Mob – any mob group, not just the Italian Mafia – would do."

"It's all a little frightening, Fenton," his wife responded. "It's one thing to look into a few cases of food poisoning, and something completely different to start investigating murder." She walked a few steps in silence, then continued. "I never feel entirely safe when you or the boys are looking into things like that. And just now, it's worse – because of what happened, just last month. Linda's being poisoned…."

Fenton stopped walking, and hugged her close. She hadn't mentioned what, to him, was even worse than her sister's death – her _own_ near-fatal brush with poison, at the hands of Dominic Scarpetti – and _that_ had been mob-influenced, too…well, Scarpetti had had mob associations, even though the poisonings were an entirely personal affair. He tightened his arms about her.

"I'll keep you safe, darling – I promise I will. If this starts to look like it is the mob, we'll be out of here and catching a plane from Reno, right away. I won't risk you again!"

Laura smiled a little. She didn't really want him to stop investigating, she just wanted some reassurance. "Let's stick with it a little longer – I'm curious to see what this Jacobs has to say."

Fenton kissed her gently, and then they turned once again toward the Grand Tahoe. _I sure hope it's not organized crime again – that would be just too much, considering what happened with Laura's family!_ He felt a stab of fear as he remembered the past events, and gripped her hand a little more tightly.

"Look – jet-skiers." Laura pointed towards the lake, from whence they could see the little watercraft in the distance, and hear the characteristic whine of their motors. "I wonder if the kids will actually get around to doing that? I know Frank wants to!"

Fenton chuckled. "They want to do everything there is to do. I fully expect to come up against the last day here, and be inundated with pleas of 'Can't we stay a few days more?'"

###

The Grand Tahoe Resort was large – four stories tall, and spreading over at least a full city block. It had been built with an eye to illusion – the illusion of rusticity. The outer walls were made to look like logs, to suggest a log cabin, although the sheen of the 'logs' revealed that it wasn't _quite_ as rustic as it seemed. The walkway from the sidewalk to the front entrance was evenly-set, smoothed-down rock – no chances of anyone tripping on _this_ surface!

Masses of dwarf varieties of evergreen trees were clustered about the building, and beds of summer flowers brightened the landscape. Twin waterfalls cascaded down, one on each side of the main entrance. They splashed gently into matching pools which in turn flowed along the sides of the building. The whole atmosphere exuded tranquility and peace.

Inside, the décor was in warm shades of green and gold, echoing the 'nature' aspect of the outside. More trees and flowers, growing in enormous pots and planters, gave the impression that a casino had somehow sprung up in the middle of a forest!

It took the Hardys several minutes of wandering and sign-reading to locate the casino business offices. Evidently they weren't placed where the general public had easy access to them – well, that made sense! Finally, they found them, and had just asked if they could speak to Mr. Jacobs, when the door to an inner office opened, and a man stepped out.

He looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties, and was tall – perhaps 6'2", about Fenton's own height – and blonde, with cool green eyes; and his well-built body was flattered by the expensively-cut dark gray suit he wore.

"Mr. Jacobs," the receptionist said, "These people would like to talk to you…"

Cameron Jacobs looked quizzically at the two, but when his eyes fell on Laura, they took on a sparkle of interest. He stepped forward, ostensibly speaking to both the Hardys, but with his eyes fastened on _her_.

"I'm Cameron Jacobs – and you are…?" He gave Fenton a quick glance and nod, then took Laura's hand. Instead of shaking it, however, he bent over it, and briefly pressed his lips to the back. Somewhat startled, she instinctively pulled back, but his clasp tightened, holding her in place.

"Fenton Hardy – and my wife, Laura," Fenton grated. He didn't much care for the predatory way Cameron Jacobs was regarding his wife. "I am a private investigator, and I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions about the problems which have been occurring aboard the _Royal Tahoe_ , and other places you own, lately."

Jacobs finally released Laura's hand, and she stepped back, hastily linking her arm into Fenton's, trying to make it evident that she was with _him_. Jacobs' eyes glinted with malicious humor; he didn't seem to care that she was with someone else. He flashed an annoyed look in Fenton's direction, then again turned to Laura and smiled warmly at her.

"Mr. Hardy, the trouble has all been taken care of – in fact, I'm positive that nothing else is going to happen. I found the problem. It was one of my delivery drivers, and he has been fired; in fact, was fired yesterday."

"Why didn't you tell the police that?" Fenton pressed.

Jacobs shot him another annoyed glance. "I'm sure you must realize, Hardy, that negative publicity is the worst possible thing, to a place like the Royal Tahoe Resort. I didn't want any more of it. I'm working very hard to turn business back around, after all this…'unpleasantness.'"

Laura felt a distinct repugnance, despite Cameron Jacobs' undeniable good looks and charming manners. Even though he was ostensibly speaking to Fenton, his eyes rarely left her, and he kept attempting to touch her in some fashion – brushing against her, putting a hand on her arm. It made her extremely nervous.

"But I don't wish to seem churlish," Jacobs was saying now. "Could I interest you in joining me for lunch?" He turned the full battery of his eyes and smile on Laura, again briefly glancing at Fenton to include him – with some reluctance – in the invitation.

"No – thank you," Laura quickly responded. "We're meeting our sons for lunch."

"Not a problem," Jacobs countered smoothly. Apparently he wasn't put off by the prospect of her having children. "They can be included – just call them, and have them drop by for the best meal in Tahoe."

"Perhaps another day," Laura said with finality, and was turning to leave when Fenton raised another question.

"What about Evan Reed, Mr. Jacobs? Didn't he work for you?"

"Yes, he did," Jacobs admitted. "Too bad, he was a good employee. I'm afraid the boy may have gotten into trouble with gambling – run up debts with some of…well, some of those 'undesirable' people." His voice put the implied quotes into his words, and Laura and Fenton had no difficulty figuring out the implication: Evan Reed had been involved with bookies or loan sharks. "In any event, I must run – unless you're sure you won't reconsider, and accept my lunch invitation?"

"No, thank you again," Laura reiterated, and the two Hardys watched Cameron Jacobs stride out of his office without a backward glance. Slowly, they followed in his wake, back through the jingling clatter of the brightly-lit casino.

As they neared the big Wheel-of-Fortune near the main entrance, Laura felt herself being tapped on the arm, and turned to see a sweet-faced and rather bewildered-looking older woman clutching a little plastic bucket of nickels.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have any idea where the ladies' room is?" the woman inquired. "I've been sitting here for hours, and…well…."

Laura smiled warmly. "Yes, I saw the sign just back this way." She turned to Fenton. "I'll be right back, honey—" and then back to the woman. "It's over in this direction; I'll show you…." Fenton shook his head, smilingly, and paused next to the Wheel, waiting for Laura to return from her errand of mercy.

As Laura made her way through the crowded aisles of slot machines on her way back, she spotted her husband, gazing up at the flashing Keno board, apparently mesmerized by the numbers it was displaying. Suddenly, she let out a warning yell, and began to run towards him – as she saw the enormous Wheel of Fortune tilt and then start to fall, directly towards Fenton Hardy's unsuspecting head!


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world.

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 12

Hearing Laura's shriek, Fenton threw himself sideways and to the floor. He wasn't sure exactly why she had yelled, but he knew a warning when he heard one.

That instinctive move to flatten himself very probably saved him from serious injury, for just after he hit the deck, the edge of the large, circular Wheel-of-Fortune slammed down hard across his back!

Screams and shouts filled the air, and not only in the vicinity of the fallen Wheel. From across the casino other voices were raised in protesting outcries: "Someone's taken my camera!" cried a woman. "Hey, my multi-media bag's gone!" a man exclaimed in fury.

Laura paid no attention to the clamor. She was down on her knees beside Fenton, struggling vainly to lift the heavy wheel from where it rested on his back. "Fenton – Fenton! Somebody help me, please!"

"Here, gimme a hand…" "Excuse us, ma'am…yeah, that's it." "Easy, now…." Two men were lifting the wheel, carefully raising it from Fenton's back. As they removed it, he let out a groan, and lifted his head a little.

"Darling, don't try to move!" Laura bent over him, her eyes filled with apprehension.

"No – no, it's okay. I'm okay." Slowly, he pushed himself to his elbows, and then sat up, wincing. "Just give me a hand up; I'm all right." Several of the surrounding bystanders extended helping hands, and Fenton got to his feet. Once upright, he put an arm across Laura's shoulders, leaning heavily on her. "Thanks!" he said to his helpers. "I owe you guys." He turned to his wife. "Let's get out of here, huh?"

Casino employees swarmed over the fallen Wheel, calling for repairmen, trying to soothe the jittery onlookers.

Fenton and Laura walked slowly to the front entrance as the crowd parted to let them pass, Laura trying to support most of her husband's weight. Once outside, they found a nearby bench, and Fenton sank down on it gratefully.

"You are hurt," Laura accused. "Don't try hiding it from me!"

"It's okay – I think it's just bruised. But it does hurt a lot," he admitted. "I'm not positive I can walk all the way back to the hotel, that's for sure."

"I can go back and get the car, if you don't mind waiting here while I'm gone," she offered quickly. "Or we can take a cab…or maybe we should call an ambulance—"

"Let's not!" he interposed hastily. "I don't have any desire to go see a doctor, and it's not all that bad, anyway."

"What if you're hurt more than you think? Back injuries can be bad; you shouldn't ignore them—"

"Laura, Laura – don't worry! It just feels like a bad bruising, that's all. A long soak in a hot tub and some ibuprofen, and I'll be just fine." Despite Fenton's reassuring words, he was pale and looked shaken, but Laura knew he wouldn't be likely to give in to her importunities.

As they sat on the bench, still attempting to recover from the incident, Fenton and Laura could hear the conversation taking place between the casino security guards and the two theft victims, but there was too much background noise to make out all the words. Fenton was intrigued, and wished to get closer to hear what they were saying, but before he could try moving, two police cars swept up to the entrance, and the familiar figure of Lieutenant Hunt emerged from one of them.

The lieutenant was striding purposefully into the casino when he spotted the Hardys on their bench. He swerved to a stop.

"Mr. Hardy! And Mrs. Hardy! Nice to see you…" He paused, eyeing them uncertainly. "What's happened? Were you two involved in the thefts—?"

"No," Laura replied for them. "Fenton had the bad luck to be standing beside the Wheel of Fortune inside the casino, and it fell on him."

"Fell on you?" Hunt exclaimed, shocked. He scowled, obviously shaken by this news. "You two wait here, if you would. I'd like to talk to you, after I interview these other people."

Fenton nodded without speaking. As the lieutenant and his aides went into the Grand Tahoe, Fenton leaned against his wife, and sighed deeply.

"Hon, I'm going to go into the gift shop and get you some ibuprofen; I don't have any with me," Laura said decisively. "You shouldn't have to wait until we get back to the hotel."

"Okay." His voice was muted. "I'll be fine here…I'm not going any place!"

Rising, she walked briskly through the main entrance once more, heading in the direction of the gift shop, which she had noticed on their prior visit.

She was just coming out of the little shop, the pain medication secure in her purse, when she found herself waylaid by none other than Cameron Jacobs, who materialized out of nowhere and took her arm possessively.

"Why, Laura Hardy! Fancy seeing you here!" he murmured. "If your husband's deserted you, I'll be more than happy to buy you a drink...or will you take me up on my offer of lunch now?"

Laura stiffened, and replied in her chilliest voice – the tone she had once used to dissuade a certain rookie police officer, long ago in New York City. "No, thank you…. My husband was injured by the Wheel-of-Fortune in your casino, Mr. Jacobs. Now, please let go of me; I'm expected outside to talk to the police."

"The police?" Jacobs sounded slightly startled, and released her. "Laura, you aren't thinking of bringing charges against the Grand Tahoe for that, are you?" She shook her head in negation, and his voice mellowed once more. "Laura, please don't be offended; I think you're beautiful, you know. You shouldn't be surprised that I'm attracted to you; I'm sure many people are."

Still coldly, Laura made the briefest response she could. "I happen to be very happy with my husband, Mr. Jacobs. Now, if you'll excuse me…." She moved towards the snack bar, hoping to get a cup of water for Fenton to take the pain pills with.

"Laura…" He was behind her again, this time holding out something to her, smiling at her with that handsome face and winsome green eyes. "For you. A lovely flower for a lovely woman." In his hand was a single white rose, its cool creaminess glowing in the dim light of the corridor where they stood. Where he'd acquired it, she had no idea; maybe he was a sleight-of-hand expert, too!

"No, thank you." She turned toward the snack bar once more, and kept walking. To her intense relief, he drew away. She requested and received the cup of water, and headed for the outside, hurrying a little. Fenton must be horribly uncomfortable; he needed her.

"Laura…" Somehow, Cameron Jacobs was there again in front of her, holding out a small case. She ignored his outstretched hand and attempted to side-step him, but he moved to intercept her. "In this box, Laura, is a diamond necklace. I'd like you to have it, as…just a small token of my…admiration."

Gritting her teeth, Laura stared up at him. "Mr. Jacobs, if you do not get out of my way and leave me alone, I am going to hit you!" She stamped past him, nearly spilling the cup of water, and swept out of the resort.

She plopped herself down beside Fenton on the bench, breathing heavily with anger, but trying hard to control it. She handed him the cup of water and fished the bottle of pain reliever from her purse. "Here, darling."

He opened the bottle and popped three capsules into his mouth, swallowing them down with gulps of water. "Thanks, honey….hey, what's wrong? What happened in there?"

"I – it was that awful Cameron Jacobs!" she admitted reluctantly. "He's a real jerk – an absolutely arrogant, thinks-he's-God's-gift-to-women heel! He's despicable, and slimy and…" She broke off, shuddering expressively.

"He tried something on again?" Fenton's scowl wasn't entirely caused by pain, now. "He didn't—"

"Don't worry, I handled it," she reassured him. "He just makes me mad, that's all."

Fenton grumbled beneath his breath, but subsided wearily. Before another topic of conversation could be raised, they were hailed by Lieutenant Hunt, who emerged from the casino and squatted down beside the bench, notebook in hand.

"Let's hear what happened?" he requested.

Fenton and Laura related all they could remember, which wasn't much. Laura had not been near, and had only seen the Wheel start to fall. Fenton hadn't seen or heard anything at all, and had only been alerted to the sudden danger by Laura's cry. When Hunt had taken down their brief statements, Fenton ventured a question of his own.

"Lieutenant, is there anything new about the Caesars Palace murder that you could tell me? When we went to the police station this morning, the desk sergeant said you'd gone to Reno for the autopsy findings…."

Hunt eyed him, grinning a little. "Insatiable, aren't you? You just missed me, at the station; I got back shortly after you left…and then this call came in! Well, I know a little; not too much. According to the M.E.'s findings, Reed was killed sometime around noon the day before his body was found. No clues have turned up at the site, and we haven't found the murder weapon yet. But from the wounds, we know it was a fairly large blade, probably six to eight inches long, and about an inch wide at the base. Reed was stabbed in the heart, and also in two other places. Whoever did it definitely wanted him dead; there's no chance it was an accident."

"Any indications that it ties in with the other troubles?" Fenton inquired. "Or…uh…possibly anything to do with…enforcer-type crime? Does Stateline have problems with that? Or maybe I should say, any new problems with that?"

Hunt shook his head. "No…not that I know of. It's around, of course, but trouble is rare, even in Reno, and certainly less so here. It's Vegas that gets that ilk."

Fenton wasn't sure about that – he hated to abandon his theory – but his back ached, and he was tired, and unable to think very clearly. He seemed to have no energy at all to pursue any more questioning just now.

"Oh, yeah…" Lieutenant Hunt snapped his fingers. "One other thing. That boy you fished out of the water? He hasn't said a word since we took him in. He won't say why he jumped overboard; he won't say why he ran in the first place. We've been talking to him about that, but he's been a clam. I think he's scared of something – something that frightens him more than a stay in a psych ward – or going to jail. But to be honest, except for his running and jumping overboard, we can't really charge him with anything…we're having a psych review done."

Fenton looked up at Hunt, now interested in something other than the pain in his back.

"The waitress we talked to – a woman named Cecilia? – said she thought he was behind the poisonings…?"

Hunt shook his head. "No – I did check into that angle, but he didn't have the opportunity. And he hasn't been near the Grand Tahoe Resort itself; only on the cruise ship. Unless there's a group of people doing this." He stood up, and closed his notebook. "I'll let you know if we get anything else out of him."

"What happened in there?" Laura indicated the casino. "We only heard a little bit of it – more robberies?"

"Mmm-hmm." The lieutenant looked disgusted. "Two more snatch-and-grab types. And I believe it indirectly involved you – we have reason to believe the thief brushed against the Wheel of Fortune as he made his escape, and that's probably what knocked it over on you, Mr. Hardy." He surveyed them both, noting the tense, worried look on Laura's face, and the exhaustion on Fenton's. "Mrs. Hardy, could I have Corporal McAfee run you two back to your hotel?" he offered.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, we'd appreciate it very much." Laura took him up on his offer before Fenton could get a word in edgewise. She and Hunt assisted Fenton to the squad car, and the corporal whisked them through the noontime Stateline traffic and deposited them at the door of Caesars Palace.

"Come along, darling…you've got a date with a hot bath." Laura took his arm, for the sake of his ego making it appear she was clinging to him, rather than supporting him. "Let's get you upstairs right away."

#####

Shivering and exhausted, Frank guided the jet-ski back to its home dock. As he approached, he looked for Joe and the girls, and was relieved to see them anxiously watching his approach, and that Megan appeared unharmed. He pulled up next to the dock, switched off the engine, and clambered off, wearily tossing the keys to the attendant with a dejected "Thanks."

"You lost him?" Joe murmured sympathetically. "We're not having much luck, are we?….Hey, you okay? Where are your shoes?"

"Yeah, I'm all right. I had to kick off my shoes to swim for it," Frank explained. "I got dumped off out there." He gestured towards the lake with a toss of his wet hair. "The shoes are probably at the bottom of Lake Tahoe by now."

Megan approached, and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm glad you're all right," she whispered, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek.

Frank laughed a little. "Better watch out; I'll get you wet," he warned.

"No wetter than I got you yesterday," she returned, and kissed him again. "But you need to go back to the hotel and change," she added, feeling him shiver within her embrace. "You're shaking."

"Okay, I'm not arguing." Frank let her guide him toward the street, and Joe and Vanessa followed closely, all of them a bit subdued by the latest incident.

By the time they reached the hotel, Frank's clothes were merely damp, rather than dripping wet, and his mood had lightened a little, but he was glad to head up to their room and strip the clammy things off. Joe lounged on the couch, watching as his older brother donned another pair of shorts and a dry shirt, and searched out a second pair of shoes.

"I'm tired," Frank admitted somberly, sitting down to tie his shoes. "Tired in general, and tired of investigating something that isn't going anywhere. And I'm damned tired of getting pushed off docks, knocked down by motorcyclists, and dumped into the Lake!"

"I know what you mean," Joe agreed. "The girls and I talked about it a bit while you were off on that jet-ski chase, but we couldn't come up with any reason for that guy trying to toss Megan into the lake – well, other than that someone seems totally fixated on your camcorder, that is. I vote we give it a rest for a little while, and find something safe to do for the rest of the day." He paused, and blinked, reviewing his words. "Did I just say that?"

Frank chuckled. "Yes, you did, and I agree. Let's go find the girls."

"Wait a sec…." Joe had glanced at their phone, and noticed the red message light blinking on the top. "Let's see what this is." He punched numbers to retrieve the message, and listened, with a startled expression coming over his face. "It's from Mom," he informed his brother. "Something happened to Dad!"

The two hurried from their room and knocked on their parents' door. A few seconds later, it was opened by their mother, who smiled reassuringly at them. "It's all right, don't worry!" she said immediately, seeing their concern. "Come on in."

They entered hesitantly. Their father was stretched out on his stomach on the bed, his eyes closed.

"What happened?" Joe demanded.

Fenton opened his eyes sleepily. "A Wheel-of-Fortune fell on me," he mumbled.

"What?" Frank couldn't believe his ears.

"You heard right." Fenton smiled wryly. "Of all stupid things to have happen…"

"Are you going to be okay?" Joe cut to the chase…as Joe almost always did. "Did you have a doctor take a look at it?"

"No – but it's fine," his father replied. "It's just bruised. I'm going to take it easy the rest of today, and I should be okay by tonight or tomorrow." He grinned ruefully. "I can't see them, but your mother tells me the bruises are spectacular."

Frank stepped closer to the bed, and gingerly pulled up his father's sports shirt. He winced at what was revealed: three large bruises which nearly covered Fenton's back. "Ouch! That looks sore, all right."

"But bruises are temporary," Fenton assured him. "I'm going to try to work out the aches a little later. First, I've got to concentrate on getting on my feet again, though." Another rueful grin.

"What happened, exactly?" Joe asked again. "How did you get hit by a Wheel-of-Fortune?"

"Sheer dumb luck," his father replied, and closed his eyes again, without elaborating.

Laura cut in, explaining the robbery at the casino and the fact that the police suspected the thief had knocked the wheel down on his way past. "It wasn't very sturdy, evidently, and Dad just happened to be standing under it."

Frank and Joe exchanged dubious looks. It sounded awfully convenient, but with no proof, what could they possibly question? It _looked_ like nothing more than an unfortunate accident. After all, who could have predicted that Fenton would be standing there at that particular time?

"What are you going to do now?" Laura was asking. "And where are Megan and Vanessa?"

"Well, we'd thought we were joining you for lunch," Joe reminded her, his blue eyes resuming their customary twinkle.

"Oh dear, you're right." Laura laughed softly. "I think Dad and I are going to be ordering lunch from Room Service."

"We'll take the girls and grab some lunch somewhere," Frank said decisively. "And then I think we're going to spend some time at the pool, and maybe the beach again." He had intended on reporting the motorcycle attack and the jet-ski chase, but decided that this was definitely not the time to add to his parents' worries _. We'll tell them later!_

"That sounds like a good idea. Go and have a good time; that's what we're here for, after all!" she said. "I think I'm going to read, and probably take a nap – and make sure your father rests," she added, with a teasing glance at her husband.

"Okay, Mom. We'll get out of here and let Dad rest." Frank bent to kiss her cheek, and laid his hand briefly on his father's shoulder. "Take it easy, Dad. We'll check back in with you later."

A knock on the girls' door produced their girlfriends in short order. Frank and Joe told them what had happened to Fenton, stressing that he was essentially unhurt, and then proposed lunch.

"What sounds good?" Vanessa mused, as they walked out of Caesars Palace, once again heading for the street, with its assortment of restaurants and stores.

"Let's just walk and look, for a little bit," Megan proposed. "I'm sure someplace will catch someone's fancy!" She glanced at Joe, with a twinkle in her eyes.

Accordingly, they set out down the block, enjoying the sunshine and the view of the blue lake waters as they went. Eventually they approached a little pancake house which bore a sign stating that they had 'The Best Waffles in Tahoe!'

"There!" Joe pointed. "That!"

Vanessa gave him an incredulous look. "You had waffles for breakfast!"

"Yes, but those were hotel waffles. These are the best in Tahoe!" Joe grinned. "Don't you believe the sign?"

She began to laugh, and was joined by Frank and Megan. "Sure Joe, I believe the sign. Well, if waffles at every meal is what you want, then I guess we can go along with it for once.…Whattya say, guys?"

Megan nodded, and began walking towards the entrance, tugging Frank by the hand. "I hope they have strawberry crepes!"

#####

After lunch was done, the four teens decided a walk was in order, to work off the luscious things they'd had to eat. They headed towards the lakeshore, the combination of warm afternoon sun and a cooling breeze off the water making the walk an enjoyable experience.

Once down on the beach, they soon came upon a group of kids about their own ages, who had set up a net and were involved in a spirited game of beach volleyball. The Hardys and their girlfriends were hailed and invited to join in the fun.

"Want to?" Frank tilted an inquiring eyebrow, and received his answer in three enthusiastic nods. Accordingly, they divided up, one couple going to each team. Vanessa's and Joe's team hailed the addition of two six-footers with loud cheers, but the other team seemed glad to have Frank and Megan join them, too. At barely 5'2", Megan couldn't spike, but she had a mean serve!

They happily played on, while the sun slowly dropped into the western sky. First the team Joe and Vanessa were on won, but the second game went the other way, and Frank's team was the victor. Although everyone wanted a third round, to break the tie, three of the kids reluctantly admitted that they needed to return to their hotel, and the game broke up.

"Let's go back and mess around by the pool," Joe proposed, as they left the volleyball area.

"That sounds wonderful!" Vanessa agreed. "I've been wanting to do that, and we haven't seemed to have the time."

"I'd like it too," Megan nodded. "You haven't seen my new swim suit," she added to Frank, whose dark eyes lighted with his anticipatory smile. "BUT," she continued, "tomorrow I really want to go to Vikingsholm. I'm determined to get there."

"Baby, we'll get to Vikingsholm if it means dragging Joe all the way there and back; I promise."

Accordingly, they hurried back to Caesars. Frank and Joe checked in with their parents, and found Laura reading on the balcony, and Fenton watching TV. The boys described their afternoon's activities, and then headed for the pool.

When Megan took off her terrycloth cover-up, her two-piece suit of aqua and black print brought forth wolf whistles from both Frank and Joe. She blushed crimson, but dimpled, nonetheless. "Thanks – but wait until you see Vanessa," she commented, looking slightly envious. "She looks like a fashion model!"

Indeed, she did. Vanessa had chosen a black, one-piece suit, and tied her blonde hair high off her neck in a bouncy ponytail. With her long legs and aristocratic bearing, she could have graced any model's runway. Joe's eyes nearly bugged out when he looked at her, and a second series of whistles resounded from both boys. Vanessa laughed and tossed her ponytail, and sauntered past them, casting a teasing glance over her shoulder.

"I'll just stay submerged all the time; you won't want to be seen with me!" Joe muttered in chagrin, stripping off his oversized tee shirt to reveal baggy blue draw-string swim trunks.

"Joe, you look great, don't talk like that! I love what that blue does for your eyes." Vanessa eyed his muscular form fondly. "Come on, I'll race you." She took his hand and pulled him toward the pool's edge.

Megan waited patiently for Frank to take off his shirt and join her in the water, but he seemed just the least bit reluctant, fussing around with lounge chairs and towels until she finally asked, "Frank, aren't you coming in?"

"Uh, yeah…I'm coming," he muttered, and slowly took off his shirt…and then, even more slowly, unzipped the khaki shorts he was wearing over his swim suit. Megan watched, her eyes twinkling at his evident shyness – and then widening, as she saw what he was wearing.

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "When did you get that?"

He grinned. "Couple of days ago." Somewhat self-consciously, he walked to the pool, clad in the dark-red, stretchy Spandex Speedo suit he'd purchased their first day in Tahoe. It showed off more of his lean, ripped frame and long legs than he usually revealed, and was flattering in the extreme. "You like it?"

Wordlessly, she nodded.

#####

When they returned to their rooms an hour or so later, Joe started to head for the shower, when again, he noticed the message light was blinking on their phone.

"Again? Now what?" he muttered. "I hope Dad's not worse!"

Frank picked up the receiver and dialed for the message. As he listened, his face took on an incredulous look, and he started frantically writing on the note pad. When he replaced the receiver, he turned to Joe, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Listen to this!" He read from the paper. "If you want to find out about the thefts in Tahoe, meet me on Mount Rose Highway tomorrow. Five miles the other side of the ski resort, there's an access road. Take that road in thee-fourths of a mile. If you aren't there by ten a.m., don't come at all. I won't wait around."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to Cherylann and Max2013 for reading and commenting on the previous chapters.

 _Note: The authors are aware that 18 and 19-year-olds are not likely to be allowed to rent motorcycles. However, some research showed that there ARE companies in Las Vegas who will do so, so by extrapolation we figured that a company in Stateline might, as well. Or, alternatively, Fenton or Laura may have rented the vehicles for them [although, on reflection, Fenton and Laura weren't very smart in allowing them to go at all!]. At any rate, we admit it was a bit far-fetched, but there had to be some way to get them where they needed to be, and it wasn't likely that they walked! So, apologies extended; we know it was purely for the sake of the story. Suspend your disbelief, please._

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 13

The next morning, both Frank and Joe were up early. After receiving the mysterious phone message, they had spent the evening poring over the incidents of the past two days, and making plans. They'd discussed the situation with their parents and the girls, and finally agreed on a course of action…and that course of action began with following the instructions left them in the message.

Fenton had warned them repeatedly that this could easily be a trap, and although Frank and Joe had to concede he had a point, it was too big a lure for them to disregard. "And after all," Joe had argued, "if we don't follow up on it, we'll probably never find out what's going on!"

They had decided to rent motorcycles for their trip to North Lake Tahoe, for the car rental agency's restrictions had been clear: they weren't allowed to drive that rental car; they were too young! Frank had scowled darkly, and Joe had ground his molars together in frustration, but Fenton laid down the law – no car.

Megan and Vanessa had both agreed that this wasn't a trip they should accompany the boys on, even if they'd been using the car. It presaged danger, and neither Frank nor Joe was willing to risk their girlfriends' safety. It was a long trip to the Mount Rose Highway; they had to go north of Incline Village, and the journey would be tiring on the motorbikes. So Vanessa and Megan decided to stay in Stateline and find things to do together, while awaiting the boys' return.

###

Frank hung up the phone, and turned to Joe. "Bikes are ready and waiting for us, and we're set to go. Let's say our goodbyes and take off; we don't have any time to waste." He stood up, picked up his camcorder from the table, and walked to the door.

"You aren't going to take that along are you?" Joe queried. "What if something happened to it?"

"No, I'm not taking it; I'm going to leave it with Megan," Frank replied. "She'll take good care of it." He stepped across the hotel corridor and tapped on his parents' door.

Laura smiled when she opened the door and saw her sons standing there. "Ready to go?" she asked. Her blue eyes were concerned, but she was attempting to conceal how she felt about this chase into the mountains. "Come on in and tell Dad goodbye." She stopped, considering the impact of her words. "That sounded awfully…final…didn't it?"

"Aw, Mom, it'll be okay." Joe hugged her tightly. "We'll just zip up there and get our information and be right back. No worries, right?"

"Right," she said, hugging him in return.

"How are you feeling, Dad?" Frank was asking now.

Fenton was on the bed, sitting up against the headboard with several pillows buffering his back. "Much better," he assured him. "My back's a nice shade of blue, and I'm stiff – I'm going to take it easy yet this morning – but I'll be okay."

"And I'm going to make sure he behaves himself and rests," Laura put in, smiling mischievously at her husband. "The most energetic thing he's going to do is maybe – maybe – try a swim in the pool, or maybe soak in the hot tub."

Fenton rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "I'm being pampered and babied to death," he complained.

There was a soft knock on the door, and when Joe opened it, he found Vanessa and Megan standing on the threshold. "Hey, babe!" he greeted Vanessa, and ushered them both inside. He wrapped his arm about his girlfriend and kissed her cheek.

"We didn't mean to interrupt anything—" Megan said hesitantly, but both Laura and Fenton shook their heads, reassuring her that the arrival hadn't interrupted a thing.

"In fact, I wanted to leave this with you." Frank removed the camera strap from about his neck, and handed Megan the little device. "I don't want to carry it with me."

"I'll take good care of it for you," she promised him.

"I know you will." He smiled down into her aqua-blue eyes. "We should be back some time this afternoon."

Joe gave Vanessa another kiss, hugged his mother, and patted his father's shoulder carefully, trying not to jostle him. "See you later!"

"Be careful," Laura said, as she always did. "And don't drive those motorcycles like maniacs, please."

"You got it, Mom." Frank took his turn bidding people goodbye, finishing with Megan wrapped in his secure embrace. "See you this afternoon, Baby."

He and Joe departed, heading for the motorcycle rental kiosk and their mysterious, unknown informant.

###

"Girls, are we going to go shopping this morning?" Laura asked them, smiling at Megan and Vanessa with anticipation. Fenton rolled his eyes again, and groaned theatrically. "Oh hush, you party-pooper!" his wife laughed.

The girls chuckled too. "Right after breakfast," Vanessa assured her. "We knew everyone was eating in the rooms this morning, so we've got stuff waiting, right now. We just came over to tell Frank and Joe goodbye."

"All right, hurry and eat before it gets cold," Laura told them. "Ours should be here soon, and I'll knock on your door when I'm ready to leave."

Megan walked over to Fenton's bedside, holding out the camera. "Mr. Hardy, could I leave this with you? I don't want to carry it shopping, and I'd just as soon not leave it in our room. So many people have tried to take it…."

"Sure, honey." He smiled at her. "It'll be safe here. Have fun shopping, later. Don't buy out the town of Stateline."

"I won't." Megan turned and headed for the door. "Behave yourself," she added daringly over her shoulder, and made a speedy exit, leaving Laura and Fenton laughing behind her.

Laura sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're sure you'll be all right by yourself?"

"Laura, for heaven's sake, of course I'll be all right!" Fenton gave her a look that was a combination of humor and exasperation. "What I'd really like to do is go back and talk to Cameron Jacobs. I want answers from him."

"You couldn't get me to go back there for all the tea in China!" Laura snapped. "In fact, if I see him at all today, I intend on turning around and going somewhere else, immediately! I still haven't forgiven him for those…" she shuddered expressively. "advances."

"You're not likely to run into him in boutiques and stores," her husband soothed her. "You and the girls just go and have a good time, okay? I'm going to try to do at least something productive while you're gone…I'm going to make a few phone calls to some people I know. I'm still not convinced that there isn't a Mafia family on the loose in the area. Maybe one of my Federal or state contacts knows something."

"Fenton, you really need to take it easy." Laura chewed her lip in concern. "I didn't like the way your back looked this morning."

"I'll be careful, honey…"

"Maybe I should take you over to the hospital, just in case—"

"Laura!" He laughed, wincing as the movement jarred his back. "I am not going to go to the hospital! I'll be fine, and I promise I'll take it easy!"

She looked unconvinced, but kissed him anyway.

#####

The ladies started at Caesars, worked their way north for awhile, then turned and went back on the other side of the street, checking out each and every shop or kiosk or boutique that looked even slightly intriguing. Laura looked more than she bought, but did succumb to the temptation of a few more shirts and a new pair of sunglasses, as well as gifts to take back home to friends in Bayport.

Vanessa was into buying things, today – she carried a list of friends with her, and was determined to find each and every person on that list some sort of token from Lake Tahoe. Trying to keep in mind that everything had to fit back into her suitcases, or else be mailed home to Bayport, she was attempting to find _small_ items, or things that could be rolled up and stuffed in corners. In a large shop devoted to tee-shirts of all sorts, she found what she vowed was a perfect gift for Joe. The picture on the front showed a cartoon bear, lounging on the grass near a riverbank, watching other bears industriously fishing in the water. On his stomach was a fish, and another lay in the grass nearby. Beneath the picture were the words: _**Work fascinates me. I could sit and watch it for hours.**_

Megan, to her delight, found more glass bells similar to the one she had bought at Heavenly, and purchased some with different inscriptions on them, to create a collection. She hadn't yet decided whether she was buying them for herself, or to give to her mother, Carolyn, but she knew she wanted to take them home in any case.

As they stepped out of one store, Laura halted on the threshold, causing the girls to nearly bowl her over. Coming down the street toward them was the familiar – and unwelcome – figure of Cameron Jacobs! Laura turned sharply and hurried away from him, tugging Vanessa and Megan along with her.

"What's – why are we running?" Vanessa asked, but Laura didn't reply, just walked faster. Megan glanced back and shrugged at Vanessa. The only person that seemed to be going in their direction at the moment was a tall, good-looking blonde man; why Laura wanted to avoid him, Megan didn't know, but it was evident that this was her goal.

But Cameron Jacobs had spotted Laura, and his long legs made catching up to her a slight task. He reached them, and put a hand on Laura's arm to halt her progress.

"Laura! How very delightful to see you again! You're looking stunning today – of course, I'm sure you always look wonderful, but you look especially stunning today," Jacobs said, his smooth voice seeming to flow over them like thick cream.

Laura raised her eyes to the cool green ones laughing down at her. _Damn him, he's enjoying this! He_ _wants_ _to make me uncomfortable!_ "How do you do, Mr. Jacobs," she said frostily, and let her eyes turn hard as rock chips.

"And not only do you look marvelous, but you're accompanied by two extremely lovely young ladies – and who might you two be?" Cameron Jacobs looked inquisitively from Megan to Vanessa.

"Mr. Jacobs, please excuse us, but we are extremely busy," Laura said, without introducing the girls. "We have more shopping to do."

"How's your…husband today?" Jacobs queried, seemingly ignoring the slight.

"He's recovering; he's resting in our hotel room, and he'll be expecting us back soon," Laura said shortly.

"Could I persuade you three gorgeous creatures to join me for lunch, perhaps?" he invited. "Anywhere you would like to eat – anywhere at all."

"Thank you for the offer, but no," Laura stated with finality. "I prefer to eat with my husband." She emphasized the last word clearly.

"But surely he'll need to rest; perhaps he isn't even going to have lunch. I would be so very delighted to have you join me—" This time, Cameron Jacobs wasn't taking 'no' for an answer!

"Laura, I'm, like, sorry to interrupt, but, like, we really need to get going, you know?!" Vanessa tapped Laura on the shoulder impatiently, making her voice as whiny and Valley-Girl-ish as she knew how. "We've got, like, so many places to go to yet, and I haven't got, like, half my list done, and…"

"Yes, of course, dear. We'll go right now." Laura let Vanessa pull her away; once the three were out of Cameron Jacobs' immediate vicinity, they sped down the sidewalk, with Megan and Laura stretching to match Vanessa's long-legged stride. "Thanks, Vanessa!" Laura hissed, chuckling, as they walked.

"What was that all about?" Megan demanded, once they were well away. "That guy had a lot of nerve – doesn't he know you're married?…well, of course he does, he asked about Mr. Hardy—"

"That's Cameron Jacobs, the man who owns the Grand Tahoe Resort," Laura explained. "The place where Fenton got hurt yesterday. He seems to have a…fixation…about me, for some reason."

"Lot of nerve," Megan grumbled again, "…but he's right, you know – you do look stunning!" she added, smiling.

Laura blushed. "Thank you, honey. Well, I'm not going to let it ruin our shopping trip. Let's try this store…."

###

They had nearly worked their way back to Caesars by lunchtime. Deciding to stop for lunch and then proceed down the street in the other direction following, the three went into a small restaurant which didn't look too crowded, and settled themselves comfortably in a cushioned booth, where they could spread their packages out along the curved, padded seats.

As they were scanning the menu and talking softly about what to choose, they could hear two women in an adjoining booth chatting. Laura glanced idly at them, and noticed they were wearing uniforms that designated them as workers at the Grand Tahoe Resort! Suddenly curious, she began listening intently to their conversation.

"It's so sad about Evan, isn't it?" one of the women commented. "He had so much going for him at one point – and now it's all gone, and he's dead."

"Things were never right with Evan since Kayla committed suicide," her companion answered. "And to think that they were supposed to get married this weekend. Instead, there'll be another funeral."

Laura looked up, and met the interested stares of Megan and Vanessa, who had started listening too.

"No one mentioned that the man killed the other day – Evan Reed – was engaged, or that his fiancée committed suicide," Vanessa whispered.

"Do you think that might be important?" Megan asked quietly, and Laura nodded.

"I think it's at the very least an interesting thing to know, and it might be important, yes. I'll have to mention it to Fenton."

"I wonder if Kayla really committed suicide," Vanessa said. She had spoken softly, but evidently she was overheard, for the waitress in the adjoining booth turned and replied to her query.

"Yes, she left a note. And she took a whole bottle of painkillers, something like 30 tablets."

"Why in the world would she have done something like that?" Laura asked, shocked. "She evidently had everything going for her – engaged to be married, a good job…?"

The two girls from the Grand Tahoe looked at each other uncertainly for a few moments before speaking. Finally, one answered. "She didn't have the good job – she'd been fired right before. Mr. Jacobs accused her of theft – but Kayla never stole anything in her life! I'm sure of that!"

Laura's eyes lit up at that. _This plot is getting thicker by the minute!_ she thought.

The two women from the Grand Tahoe finished their meal and left. Laura, Megan and Vanessa ordered and ate their lunch. They decided not to continue shopping after all; instead they wanted to return to their hotel and share the news they'd gleaned with Fenton.

When they arrived in their hallway, however, they were startled to see one of the maids hovering in the corridor beside her cart, a frightened expression on her face. When Laura asked what was troubling her, she pointed wordlessly at the partially-opened door to a room – Frank's and Joe's room!

Trembling with anxiety over what she might find, Laura pushed the door further open, and halted in the doorway, aghast. The place had been systematically taken apart!

#####

Frank and Joe wheeled their rented motorcycles into the street and mounted them, pausing to fasten their helmets securely before taking off into the early-morning tourist traffic snaking through Stateline. Since they were heading for the Mount Rose Highway, and knew they'd be facing cold winds as they rode, both boys were dressed warmly…too warmly for Stateline, but they knew they'd need the extra protection later.

Frank had on long khaki pants and a dark green sweatshirt over a tee-shirt. Joe had chosen blue jeans, topped by a tee-shirt and a windbreaker. On his shirt was a cartoon of two bears walking away from a campsite, and the caption read: **If it's Tourist Season, why can't we hunt them?**

"These are a lot like our bikes at home," Joe commented, as he settled himself more comfortably on the seat.

"Mmmm," Frank replied absently, as he studied the map he'd gotten from the motorbike rental shop.

"Wish I had the Aztek here; that would have been perfect for this run into the mountains." Joe continued making conversation.

"Mmm-hmmm." Frank looked up, finally, and held out the map. "Here's where we're going, see?" He pointed, and Joe looked, and nodded.

"Let's go," the younger Hardy said, and kicked down on the starter.

###

Their trip was a pleasant one to the north part of the lake, riding along Highway 50. They had seen it before, of course, coming from Reno in the car, but riding the motorcycles made it much more up close and personal.

Joe was amused by the multitude of casinos and the increased number of tourists at these northern resorts; he hadn't realized until then just how quiet Stateline was in comparison! He commented on this to Frank, who agreed.

"I guess Mom and Dad wanted peace and quiet, huh?" Joe shouted over the roar of the cycles' engines.

"Maybe they wanted it – but that's not exactly what they got!" Frank shouted back.

The two enjoyed the view of the lake off to their left, and the surrounding mountains, but as they neared the junction with Highway 28, they both were feeling a little nervous. They were taking risks, and they knew it…just what might they find, when they reached the rendezvous point?

Highway 28 took them to Incline Village. They throttled down to go through the town, then found the turnoff to Highway 431 and headed northeast, directed by signs reading "To Mount Rose Ski Resort," and "Reno/Sparks." They had anticipated rough riding by this point, and were relieved to find the road was smooth and easy to traverse. There were occasional signs warning them to "Watch For Falling Rocks," or "Watch For Rocks on Road." Joe laughed when he first spotted the signs.

"Are the rocks going to do tricks, or something?" he yelled to Frank, pointing out the sign.

Frank laughed. "I doubt it!"

They continued on up the mountain, climbing higher and higher in elevation now, as they headed for the pass. Frank kept watching the mile markers. They passed the ski resort, closed now, in mid-August. Five miles more…and there was the access highway!

They slowed the bikes to a stop and surveyed the terrain.

"It looks awfully rocky and hilly," Joe observed grimly. "Think these bikes can handle it?"

"Yeah…." Frank was chewing the corner of his lip, thoughtfully. "If we take it slow, we should be okay."

"What if it's a trap?" Joe murmured. "It feels like a trap."

Frank glanced at him. "You want to wait here? The guy's expecting me, after all, not necessarily us."

"Right, like I'd let you walk in there alone! What do you take me for?" Joe expostulated.

Frank sighed and chuckled at the same time. "So what do you want to do?" he asked.

Joe pondered the question a few moments, staring at the road ahead of him. Finally he spoke: "Let's go in together – but keep both eyes peeled."

"Okay, I'm good with that. Let's go." Frank kicked the starter and led the way.

They went along the road the designated ¾ mile, and halted, looking around carefully. They took off their helmets, so that nothing would obscure vision or hearing, and waited several minutes…but there seemed to be nothing and no one anywhere in the vicinity.

"A wild goose chase!" Joe snapped, slamming his hand down on the handlebars of his cycle. "We've come all this way for nothing!"

"Maybe…"

"I'm going to go in just a little further," Joe announced, and revved his motor. "Maybe we've not gone far enough."

He headed slowly up the road, while Frank waited where he was, but before Joe had gone very far, he slammed to a halt, for the air had suddenly been shattered by the sound of wild gunfire!

Only seconds later, it seemed, a hail of rocks and gravel was pouring down on him, as the mountainside appeared to be crumbling and sliding into the roadway. Joe tried to turn his cycle and flee, but the wheels slipped in the loose stones, and he felt the bike falling – falling sideways…and Joe Hardy's world disappeared in a torrent of dust and rocks and dirt... And then faded to black.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world.

Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 14

"What in the world…?" Laura stared at her sons' hotel room in shock. "This is beyond searching, it's…it's…."

"It's weird," Vanessa murmured at her shoulder. The three women gazed about the room, while the hotel maid cowered in the doorway. "Look at it…"

"Someone with a really warped sense of humor did this," Megan commented in her turn. She walked carefully across the room, stepping over clothes and the boys' personal possessions. "Look, all the blankets and sheets are hanging off the balcony railing…"

Vanessa had poked her head into the bathroom. "Everything is dumped out on the floor – well, I don't mean shampoo, or anything, but all the bottles are on the floor, and the guys' shaving kits, and the towels and stuff."

"There are – there's—" Laura's voice was shocked, but it was beginning to quiver with something vaguely akin to laughter. "hanging on the light fixtures, there's…"

"Underwear," Megan finished the sentence, and choked back a giggle. "Please tell me this isn't because they finally decided to unpack!"

"Don't touch anything," Laura warned, as Vanessa automatically bent to start picking things up. "The police will need to check this out."

The maid, who had stepped back into the hall, popped her head into the room. "I've called hotel security," she announced. "They'll be here right away, ma'am."

Slowly, Laura and the girls backed out of the room, and waited in the hallway. In just a few minutes, the hotel security team arrived. They took one look at the chaos in the room, and started asking questions.

"When did this happen, ma'am?"

"I'm not sure; we've just arrived back from shopping. We were gone all morning," Laura replied. "When we got here, Miss – Debra, you said your name was? – Debra was standing in the hallway; she'd just opened the room and discovered it."

The security chief looked at the devastated room once again, and called the police.

When the officers from the Stateline police station got there, Laura took in Lieutenant Hunt's presence without batting an eye.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Hunt," she greeted him equably. "We seem to have encountered a little problem."

The blonde lieutenant chuckled grimly, and waved his two assistants into the room to start searching for clues. "Mrs. Hardy, I've never seen anyone get involved by accident in so many things as you and your family seem to! Well, let's hear what you can tell me."

As Lt. Hunt was taking their brief statements, the door of Laura's and Fenton's room across the hall opened, and Fenton stood there, regarding the scene with a puzzled expression. Dressed now, in slacks and a golf shirt, but no shoes, he had Frank's camcorder slung about his neck.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "I was taking a nap, and I heard all the uproar – what in the world?" He moved across the hall, and surveyed the boys' room. "What happened?"

He received explanations from Laura, Lieutenant Hunt, and Vanessa, all at the same time, but managed to get a fair idea of the situation, nevertheless. He frowned thoughtfully, absently toying with the camera strap.

"Why would anyone search Frank and Joe's room – and no one else's?" he asked.

"Had you found anything in your investigation of the food poisoning incidents, or the thefts, that might have been in there?" Lieutenant Hunt queried.

"No." Fenton shook his head. "Nothing since yesterday – I haven't been out of bed much since then," he admitted ruefully. "And evidently I slept right through this!" He slipped off the camera, and handed it to Megan. "Here, Megan." He stepped into the trashed room, watching as the investigative team worked. They didn't seem to be finding anything at all in the way of clues, he noted. Fenton was beginning to be very suspicious.

"Lieutenant Hunt, were there any thefts happening before we arrived here four days ago?" he asked.

The lieutenant shook his head. "No, sir. They started three days ago. The food poisoning, yeah – that had been going on. But not the thefts." He sighed, and swept his hand out, indicating the hotel room. "So far, the only thing we're finding here is that someone jimmied the lock to get in; other than that – zilch!"

Eventually, Laura and the girls signed their statements, the police finished their tasks, and Lieutenant Hunt swept his entourage off to the elevators. Laura, Megan and Vanessa set to work to sort out the mess, and Fenton located a chair, shoved the various articles off, and gratefully sank into it.

Vanessa started in the bathroom, picking up the complimentary bottles of shampoo and conditioner, hanging up the towels, trying to replace things in the boys' grooming kits. She had no idea whose stuff was whose; she merely laid them neatly on the counter, figuring Frank and Joe could sort it out later.

Megan and Laura set about bringing in the blankets, sheets and bedspreads from where they dangled over the balcony railing, and remaking the beds. The pillows had been stuffed in the shower, but luckily were not too wet. When the beds were made, all three of the women began putting the clothes back in some semblance of order.

Since Laura saw their clothes when she did the weekly laundry, she could usually identify which shirts belonged to which boy. The pants were easy to separate; Frank's were an inch longer leg length. The shorts, however, were a tossup, although the damp ones were clearly Frank's from the day before. Megan and Vanessa, both blushing slightly, left sorting underwear to Laura.

"What is this?" Laura's voice sounded just a bit choked, as she removed a scanty, dark-red article from the hanging lamp over the table. "And whose is it?" The girls looked – and laughed.

"Um – that's Frank's new swim suit," Vanessa informed Laura, winking at Megan, but secretly hoping this wasn't going to cause a problem. The Hardys weren't terribly strait-laced – in fact, they were among the most easy-going parents Vanessa was acquainted with! – but that was quite some swimwear, all the same!

Laura's eyebrows shot up, but she didn't say anything, she merely turned her head and caught Fenton's eye. He looked like he was trying very hard not to explode with laughter. Her lips twitched in response. "Very pretty color," she remarked calmly, and folded it into a drawer.

As they worked, Laura told Fenton what she and the girls had overheard at the restaurant, and the ensuing conversation with the waitresses from the Grand Tahoe Resort. He listened closely, mulling things over in his mind.

 _So Evan Reed had a fiancée who killed herself because she was fired by Cameron Jacobs for accused theft…._ he mused. _I just need a little more information; I can feel it coming together – but I don't know quite enough yet._

Now that things were nearly back to normal in the room, Megan began to think about Frank's camcorder again. She wondered how much tape there was left in the camera. Frank had been filming a great deal, those first two days.

"Van, did you see any other camcorder tapes around?" she asked, looking about the room.

"No, I didn't see any." The younger girl shook her head. "I'm sure Frank brought plenty of extra film; where could it have gone? I didn't see Frank's laptop either, but nothing else is missing…." Vanessa, too, looked about curiously.

"What are you missing, girls?" Fenton roused himself from his abstraction to inquire.

"Frank's extra film, and his laptop," Megan explained. "If they're gone…"

"Oh, no – it's okay; it's in my room," he reassured them. "I've got the whole bag of extra film and other stuff in there, including Frank's laptop."

Still wondering just how much film was left in the camera, Megan decided to play the whole thing from the beginning. She plugged the camera into its AC adaptor, and sat down on the couch to watch.

 _There was the first day…arriving at the airport in Reno…film of the rental car, the road from Reno, the mountains, the lake. There's the first Shakespearean reenactment, and scenes from around the hotel…._ She kept watching, mentally reliving their activities as she did so. _There we are on the beach – Joe doing his handstands, and Vanessa with sand in her shoes – why did Frank take so much film footage of_ _me_ _, for Pete's sake?_ She smiled warmly. _There we are with the statues back at Caesars…and there's Vanessa doing 'Walk Like an Egyptian'…. And there we are posing, and there's the reenactment rehearsal behind us…._

Megan frowned slightly, watching the movement of the actors in the background. Somehow, they didn't seem to be doing the same professional-looking job they had during performance. She rewound the tape a bit, and watched it again, noting they were working on the stabbing scene. _Why does that look odd…?_ She stopped the tape with a gulp, feeling the color drain from her face.

The knife held by the 'actor' was gleaming a bright red.

#####

Joe blinked his eyes open slowly. His vision was blurry, and his eyes stung and itched, full of dust and particles of sandy dirt. He lifted one hand and rubbed them, hard, encouraging them to water enough for tears to wash away the dust.

 _What happened?_ _Why do I hurt so much?_ Joe turned his head gingerly, trying to remember where he was, and why he was there at all. Slowly, recollection seeped into his brain. Mount Rose…he and Frank had come to Mount Rose, following the lead left in the telephone message. They had come here, but no one was around…the gunfire! Joe jerked his head up, suddenly remembering the aftermath of that gunfire. _Rockslide!_

Moving his head hurt – moving _everything_ hurt, but not so badly that he couldn't do it. Joe pushed himself to a sitting position, and looked around. Rocks littered the ground all about him, but he'd evidently been missed by the larger ones _– lucky there!_ he thought. His motorcycle was knocked over, and gouged and dented by the rocks, but not buried. Gathering himself, he struggled to his feet, and began to check himself over for injuries.

He found blood trickling from a cut on his left cheekbone, but it didn't feel too serious. His windbreaker sleeve had been torn and shredded, and his forearm was scraped raw in consequence. His arms and legs felt bruised, but intact. He had a massive headache…Joe rubbed his hand across his eyes, trying to concentrate through the throbbing in his head _. Should've left my helmet on….Guess I'm okay…._ Suddenly, he looked around, aware of something missing. _Frank! Where's Frank?_

"Frank? Frank? FRANK!" Joe shouted his brother's name several times, but the only responses he got were echoes, and the soft soughing of the wind in the pine trees. Then more memory trickled back _. I came ahead; he wasn't right here, he was back…there…!_

Suddenly panic-stricken, Joe backtracked as fast as he could down the access road, picking his way through the increasing amounts of rock and scree lying in the roadway. He reached a mound of rock, and saw what looked to be part of a motorbike sticking out of the rubble…and near it, he then saw the khaki-clad leg and athletic shoe he knew belonged to his brother!

"FRANK!" Joe dashed to the spot, and began frantically moving rocks, trying to be careful, trying not to let anything start sliding onto Frank again. "Frank, I'm coming – hang on, I'll get you out…it'll be okay, just hang on." _Carefully, do it carefully…oh God, he's got to be all right!_

Frank wasn't totally buried in rock, Joe realized with relief. He was lying facedown in a pile of smallish boulders and stones, but only a few were actually on top of him, it was mostly gravel and debris. "Frank, can you hear me? Talk to me, Frank – come on, wake up and talk to me…." Joe babbled frantically as he scooped rubble from his brother's body, trying desperately to gain a response from that quiescent figure.

Frank was alive, no question about that. He was breathing, and when Joe laid a hand against his throat, he felt a steady pulse beat. But he wasn't regaining consciousness, and Joe didn't like some other things he was finding. Frank's left arm was bent at an angle that no arm was ever meant to go…obviously broken. He'd evidently been hit by several rocks, some of which had struck his back, and one, at least, had hit his head; blood was oozing from a scalp wound near the crown. Joe felt in his pocket, hoping against hope that he'd thought to stick in a handkerchief, something – anything! – he could use to staunch the blood from that seeping wound…but no handkerchief was there.

 _Gotta get help…he needs help…._ Joe staggered to his feet, thinking of trekking out to the main road in hopes of flagging down a passing motorist, but before he had gone more than a few steps, he realized what a futile – and dangerous! – idea that was.

Someone started that slide on purpose…what if whoever did it is waiting around and comes after us again? It's nearly six miles back to the ski resort, and that's closed anyway; there wouldn't be anyone there! And if I left Frank, if the guy who did this is still around, he'd use it as a chance to finish him off. No way am I gonna let that happen!

Joe closed his eyes, fighting for composure. _It's up to me to get us out of here._

A low moan behind him caused Joe to turn around and hurry back to Frank's side. "Frank? Hey pal, you ready to wake up?" He knelt down in the rubble beside his brother.

Short pained breaths interspersed with moans were all the response he received to his questions. Frank's eyelashes were fluttering, and he moved his head slightly, but coherent speech seemed beyond him at this point.

"Frank?" Joe put a gentle hand on his brother's back. "Come on, wake up and talk to me."

Another groan, and then a single clear word: "…hurts…" Frank's voice trailed off into another jumble of incoherencies.

"I know it hurts, pal – but I want you to wake up and talk to me. Come on now, try, Frank, please!" A note of desperation crept into Joe's tone.

Slowly, the pained breathing steadied, and then the dark lashes lifted momentarily. "…rocks…." Frank made a feeble attempt to move, but that movement jarred his injured arm, and he cried out sharply in pain before subsiding into weak moans once more.

"Easy, easy…don't try to move, Frank, lie still." Joe gently restrained him. "Stay quiet; just stay still." He wasn't sure Frank was hearing him, but all the same, Joe kept up the steady stream of soothing words, trying to penetrate the fog of semi-consciousness. "Take it easy, bro, take it easy…you're gonna be okay, just hang in there…."

But Joe was realizing just how much trouble they were actually in. Supplies – next to nothing. Communication with the outside world? Hopefully, Joe felt in his pocket for his cell phone, which Fenton had insisted he carry on this trip. He felt the broken plastic before he pulled it out – smashed beyond redemption. And if _his_ was this bad, there was no way Frank's could have survived the rockslide, he knew that.

The soft groans had ceased again, and Frank's eyes were flickering open once more.

"Frank? Come on, talk to me," Joe urged. "Talk to me, Frank…" Desperately, Joe tried to remember the instructions from his first-aid classes… _something about repeating a victim's name…people respond to the sound of their name_. "Frank, can you feel your legs? Tell me if you can feel your legs, Frank."

"Mmmflmm…" The dusty lips moved, but the sound that emerged was unintelligible. And then, "hurts…" followed by another groan.

Joe repeated his question, and got essentially the same response. He sighed, and looked around. _All right – I'm going to have to do this all by myself. Fine. Let's get on it, then._

The first thing to do, Joe decided, was to immobilize Frank as much as possible. If he didn't, Frank could get an even worse injury. But what to use? There was nothing out here but rocks and dirt and wood and grass. Rope, now…rope would have been handy. Well, there wasn't any rope. He'd have to make do with what Nature had dumped him with.

First, to keep that arm still…Joe stood up and made his way through the rubble across the road, to where scrubby pines still stood, despite the slide's efforts to rip them out by the roots. He broke off some fairly straight branches, then began hunting through the tall grass, hoping to locate some vines which would be strong enough to use as rope. He found some, but knew it would be necessary to braid them together to form a thick enough binding. This was going to take time!

Hearing Frank groaning again, Joe returned to Frank's side and knelt there once more, and again tried to rouse him, to make him talk. Frank mumbled incoherently a bit, then muttered "Joe…"

"Frank? I'm here – It's me, talk to me!" Joe bent close, encouraged by this sign of lucidity. But Frank's next words made the younger boy swallow hard and his eyes sting.

"…Megan? Please…I want…I want to tell her…" Silence.

As gently as he could, Joe examined Frank's back, although he knew he could easily miss an injury, even something as evident as a broken bone. _I'm no doctor, he could have any sorts of injuries and I'd never know it._ Joe winced at the sight of Frank's back; it was badly bruised by the rocks, and already starting to swell. _I need to find something to brace his back – just in case! I'm not sure this is going to work, but I've got to do the best I can…._

Joe stood up once more, and was about to look for something large enough to use as a sturdy brace, when he was halted in his tracks by Frank's voice.

"Joe?" It was soft, but clear. His brother had – momentarily, at least – regained his senses.

Joe turned, and dropped to his knees again. "I'm here, Frank; take it easy."

"What happened?" Frank attempted to turn his head enough to look at his brother, but winced and desisted.

"You were caught in a rockslide, pal."

"Rockslide?…" Frank's blurred voice repeated the word, wonderingly.

"Yeah – somebody started one and dumped half a mountain on us." Joe attempted a smile. "But we'll show 'em – we're both still alive and kicking…." He swallowed. "Can you feel your legs?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Does your back hurt? I mean, do you think it's injured?"

"I don't know – it hurts all over," Frank murmured. He shifted slightly, and flinched, to Joe's immediate alarm. "Ouch….Everything moves, though – so I guess it's okay."

"I don't like you trying to move," Joe fretted, although he was beginning to realize there were few options open to them. Frank couldn't stay there, he was going to _have_ to move!

"My arm hurts," Frank whispered. "It hurts really bad, Joe."

"I know; you've broken it. I'll try to get it immobilized in just a minute," Joe attempted to reassure him. "Then it won't hurt you so much."

"'kay…." Frank closed his eyes once more.

"Frank – do you think you could possibly roll onto your back?" Joe hated this thought, but again, what choice did he have? Frank couldn't simply lie there on the mountainside forever!

"…can…try." Frank didn't open his eyes.

"Okay." Joe tried to sound positive and optimistic. "We'll try it. But if it hurts at all, tell me, and I'll stop. I mean, I know it'll hurt, but if you feel something sharp…oh hell, you know what I mean!"

"Yeah—" Frank's voice held the slightest tinge of amusement. "I know. I'll tell you…believe me, I'll tell you!"

"Okay – easy now – easy…you're doing good – little farther, that's all…." Gently, very gently, Joe pulled Frank's limp form over onto his back, trying to shut out the gasps of pain Frank couldn't quite stifle as his broken arm was jarred – and froze, staring numbly at an incredible new problem.

Protruding from Frank's upper left arm, just below his shoulder, was a round stick about half an inch thick…and suddenly, everything was becoming drenched in blood!


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to Cherylann, BMSH and Max2013 for their commentary.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 15

"Just – just hold on, Frank." Joe tried to hold his voice steady, to keep Frank from hearing the shock and dismay he was feeling, but it was next to impossible.

"My back…rocks under…." Frank attempted to shift, but caught his breath with a gasp.

"Okay, take it easy." Joe lifted him slightly, just enough to scrape the offending stones away, then eased him back down. "Better?" His voice shook, no matter how hard he tried to control it.

 _Get it together, Hardy!_ Joe stared at that ugly stick protruding from Frank's arm, with the blood streaming out around it, rapidly soaking Frank's sweatshirt sleeve and continuing on to seep into the dusty ground beneath. When Frank had been lying facedown, the pressure would have kept the bleeding controlled, but now…. _This is bad, but hold it together._ He felt his stomach clench, and closed his eyes briefly, shutting out the sight. _How can I help him? What can I use? THINK, Joe! You did this with April, you can do it with Frank._ Behind his eyelids flashed a vision of April Wayne, her leg impaled with a piece of metal, bleeding in the cockpit of a downed airplane…. _But we had the first-aid kit from the plane…._

And then, somehow, his mind cleared. _Why hadn't he remembered before? The motorcycle! Was there a first-aid kit with it? Surely a rental place would include one…?_ Joe scrambled to his feet and half-staggered, half-ran back to where his motorcycle lay. Hands trembling, he dug into the side compartments, and felt hard plastic beneath his fingers. He pulled out a white box, and read the blessed words **First Aid Kit** on the cover. _Thank you, God – thank you, thank you!_ Joe hurried back to his brother as fast as he could go.

Frank was lying exactly as he'd left him, eyes closed and face pale beneath the coating of dust. Joe didn't bother trying to talk to him right then, he was too busy tearing open the precious box of first-aid supplies.

First, the package of gauze…W _ish there was more, but this is better than nothing._ Joe packed it carefully around the stick, hoping it would staunch the blood flow. Now adhesive tape – recklessly, Joe stripped off lengths of the tape, and pressed them into place to hold the gauze padding secure. _I don't dare pull the stick out; Frank would bleed to death right before my eyes…hang on, Frank; hang on!_ Throughout all this, Frank lay quiet and unresponsive, evidently having slipped out of consciousness once more. _At least I'm not hurting him; if he's unconscious he can't feel what I'm doing…._

Wondering if there had been another first-aid kit on Frank's cycle, Joe hopefully turned to check, but saw that the motorbike had been so thoroughly buried beneath rocks and debris, unearthing it would take too much time…time he couldn't spare. He was abruptly grateful that, somehow, Frank had been thrown free of the motorcycle; if he had still been on it when the rockslide hit, he would be dead for sure. Suddenly, there was pressure to hurry…hurry and get to civilization! _Hurry before he loses too much blood…._

When he had done everything he could to slow the bleeding, Joe turned his attention to Frank's lower arm. He found an elastic bandage in the first aid box, and keeping the arm as still as possible, secured two straight sticks to it, wrapping the bandage tightly to immobilize the injury. This action roused Frank, who groaned and instinctively tried to twist away from the pain.

"No, Frank, stay still – I'm almost done; it'll feel better in a second; hang on." Joe secured the bandage with its little metal clasp, and eased Frank's arm down against his chest. "How's that?"

Dark eyes gazed blearily upward. "'s…okay…so tired. Joe – I want to…sleep for awhile, okay?"

"NO! You need to stay awake, Frank; stay with me!" Joe sharpened his tone, trying to pierce the fog again. With this many injuries, as severe as they looked, he knew Frank was at high risk for shock. "Frank! Wake up! Talk to me!"

"I'll…try."

Joe searched through the first-aid kit again, realizing anew that he himself might benefit from some of the contents. He found a couple packets of premoistened towelettes, and opened one, then rubbed the damp little paper over his dusty face. A sharp stinging sensation recalled to him the cut on his cheekbone, and he dug out a butterfly bandage to apply to the cut, hoping he was getting it in approximately the right place, since he couldn't see what he was doing. He used another of the towelettes to wipe some of the grime from Frank's face, and this made Frank blink his eyes open once more.

"Joe – you should – go get – help," Frank whispered. "Leave…me…."

"Not a chance," Joe growled. "Whoever did this might still be around. If I left, he might come and kill you."

In the little kit, Joe found a triangular bandage and safety pins – _it's amazing_ , he thought _, how much stuff they could cram into this little box!_ – and he managed to create a sling for Frank's arm, working around the protruding stick, where blood was soaking the gauze. All the time, he kept up a constant chatter of conversation, trying to keep Frank alert – but it only worked part of the time.

Frank kept slipping into a light doze, then rousing abruptly to groan with pain, or to repeat, again and again, that Joe should leave him there. Exasperated, Joe found himself right in his brother's face, yelling that _NO! he wasn't about to leave him; they'd leave together or neither one would leave at all!_

"We just have to hang on, Frank – when the folks don't hear from us this evening – maybe even this afternoon – they'll start looking for us. You just have to keep going till then."

"Sleepy…" Frank murmured. "So…tired."

"No, Frank…" Joe felt as if he were caught in an endless feedback loop, repeating the same words again and again. "Stay with me, stay awake." He bent close to his brother again. "Talk to me…talk about – anything. Talk about the case. Talk about Megan. Talk about school coming up. TALK to me, Frank!"

"Go…on…leave…me."

"NO! Stop saying that!" Joe gritted his teeth in frustration. _We've got to get out of here – our chances for rescue – Frank's chances for survival, face it, Joe! – would be so much better, if we were out on the main road, not back here in the wilderness. 'We?' Me. I've got to get us out – Frank can't help; not this time. This time it's me, or nobody. Guess I get to be the big brother, for once._

Casting an apprehensive glance at Frank's still, shuttered face, Joe got up and crossed the road again, heading for the scrubby pine trees. He had unearthed his Swiss army knife from where he'd tossed it in the cycle's storage box, and he used it now, hacking pine boughs down. He located two long, sturdy branches, and leaped to hang from them, one after the other, until they snapped off the tree. He could use these for the base of a travois.

Still no rope, but Joe was thinking more clearly now. He pulled loose the drawstring from the hood of his windbreaker, and the one from the waist. It wasn't as strong as he needed, but it was better than nothing. _Frank's sweatshirt has a hood!_ he realized, and hurried back to his brother's side.

"You're awake, right?" He tapped Frank gently to rouse him.

"Sort of.…Did it – turn cold? I feel – so cold…." Frank's voice was muted, and his lashes barely flickered as he spoke.

Joe felt his heart thump when Frank said that. The morning sun was beating down on them, and it was anything but cold.

"If you're cold, you can use my jacket." he said soothingly, and slipped out of his windbreaker. He tucked it carefully around Frank, and then fumbled with the knotted drawstring of his brother's sweatshirt hood.

"What're…you doing?" Frank squinted his eyes open briefly.

"I'm going to make a travois to get you out of here," Joe told him. He suspected he'd have to repeat all this several more times; Frank didn't seem to be retaining much of what was said to him.

"Oh….okay," Frank responded without much interest.

Drawstring in his hands, Joe trotted back to his work with the branches. He went a little way into the woods, and found some stronger plants with thick, flexible stems that he could twine and braid into a sort of rope. With this rope, he began lashing the large pine boughs together, and then fastening them to the frame he'd devised with the biggest branches.

 _This will never hold all the way out to the road,_ he thought miserably, as he worked. _I'll have to carry extra stuff to keep tying it together when it falls apart, as it surely will. Oh God, I hope it doesn't hurt Frank worse when it comes apart…._

He hadn't noticed the passage of time. When he finally looked at his watch, he was astounded to see that it was only – only? – 12:30. It seemed like a thousand years had passed since the slide, and looking back to early morning at the hotel was like trying to look across light-years. It seemed to exist only in a completely different world.

Finally Joe was satisfied with his makeshift travois. The vines were holding the boughs fairly securely, and the drawstrings held the whole thing together.

Joe slumped back, giving in briefly to the maddening pounding in his head. The headache had been steadily growing worse as time passed, and Joe gingerly probed the back of his head, where he came in contact with a fair-sized bump. _No wonder it hurts,_ he thought. _But I don't have time to deal with that right now; it's Frank that's important. If I keep busy, I won't notice the hurt. Still – wait!_ The first-aid-kit – surely there was something in there…?

Joe's search was rewarded by a small bottle of Tylenol, and he fumbled out a couple of tablets. Remembering, after all this time, that he'd had a bottle of water on his cycle, he trudged back and got it, then swallowed the pain reliever. The water, although tepid, seemed to clear his head a little, and he realized he had likely been suffering from dehydration. He wondered if Frank's water bottle had survived, but one look at the pile of rocky scree told him that was a lost hope.

 _Frank – he needs water, too._ Joe shook his aching head, wondering just how he could have been so stupid as to not think of this important thing. He went over to Frank, realizing that his brother had been left alone longer than was wise.

"Frank? How ya doin'?" Joe squatted down beside him. "I brought you some water – you thirsty?"

For a moment, Joe was afraid Frank wasn't going to answer, and he felt his heart pound with apprehension. Then the older boy sighed a little, and opened his eyes. "Yeah…real thirsty."

Joe pulled up the top, and held the water bottle to Frank's mouth, tilting it just enough to let the liquid flow gently through the half-parted lips. Frank swallowed greedily, and Joe kicked himself anew for not realizing how badly he'd needed water. _I wonder if he could manage to swallow any Tylenol…?_

When Frank turned his head slightly, indicating that he'd had enough to drink for the moment, Joe capped the bottle and set it beside him, then went back and got the travois. He dragged it over and laid it down beside Frank.

"Hey bro, what say we get out of here, huh?" Joe's throat was so tight with worry he could barely force the cheerful words out. "It's time to leave the grizzly bears and other critters, and get back to civilization."

Frank rolled his head to one side, and mumbled something that Joe couldn't understand.

"Huh? Say it again, Frank…" Joe dropped to one knee and leaned close.

"I said…go on…and leave me," Frank repeated, jerkily.

"Like hell I am going to leave you!" Joe glared at him. "I am leaving, and you are leaving. I go, and you go. We…go…together. Period. Now no more arguing. Stop being such a nitwit. Obviously you've had too much sun."

Frank cracked his eyes open a trifle, and managed a smile. "Right."

Joe positioned the travois as close to Frank as he could, and took his windbreaker from around Frank's shoulders, spreading it over the fluffy pine branches. "You ready for this?" he asked, sliding gentle hands beneath Frank's good shoulder and hip. "I'll roll you up just a little, and shove the travois underneath, then let you back down, okay?"

Before he could start the maneuver, however, Joe heard a snapping of twigs and the sounds of movement in the scrub brush. Someone was coming! He twisted about, and to his horror, he saw a man approaching, holding a rifle which was pointed directly at him!

#####

Megan stared at the bloody knife in the picture for a moment, transfixed with horror at the sight. She knew now, without a doubt, why someone had been after Frank, and after his camera. The man who had been murdered – Evan Reed – was here, his slaying caught by accident on film. And the murderer…he was there too.

She rewound the tape, and played the scene again…and again…and once more, trying to find the best view of the man holding the knife. The picture was dark, for the reenactment rehearsal had been done beneath shady trees. The assailant's face was in shadow, and features were difficult to make out.

"M-Mr. Hardy…" The words were barely audible. Megan cleared her throat and tried again. "Mr. Hardy – I think I've found something."

Shakily, she explained what she'd found on the film, while Fenton, Laura and Vanessa listened in fascinated horror. Vanessa came to lean over Megan's shoulder and view the tape.

"He was made up to look like part of the theater troupe," the blonde girl observed. "It would be hard to ID him with all that makeup on his face."

"Perhaps the police can clean up the tape and enhance it enough to be used," Fenton commented. "At least, I hope they can." He got up and moved to take a seat by Megan, on the couch. "Let's see it – and sweetie, stop looking like you're going into shock, can't you?"

"It's happening again," Megan gulped. "People wanting a t-tape – it's like the tape my dad took; the one they killed him for….and I was standing right there in front of it!" She bit her lip, determined not to cry in front of Frank's parents.

Stricken, Fenton put his arms around her and hugged her close, patting her back soothingly. "Oh honey, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You didn't need this, did you? You really didn't need this…." he murmured. After a few moments, he felt the tension leave her body, and he eased his embrace. Megan sat back, calm once more, and placed the camcorder on his lap. "Well, let's see what we've got."

He went through the film frame by frame, freezing it time and again, and jotting down notes as he did so; the time notation shown on the camera, the location of the weapon, the angle of entry. Megan watched him work, trying to disassociate herself mentally from what she knew had happened. A man had been stabbed to death directly behind her, and she'd never known a thing! Vanessa looked a little greenish too, she noted. It was a nasty feeling.

Finally, Fenton shut off the camcorder and popped the film out. He pocketed the little tape, and handed the camcorder back to Megan. "We can put a fresh film in; no reason not to keep using it," he commented. "But we need to keep this one—" patting his pocket, "safe until it can be turned over to the police." He stood up. "Okay, I'm ready to get moving; we've finally got a definite lead. I want to see where it happened."

###

The four of them left the hotel together, heading for the outdoor theater area. Megan had reloaded Frank's camcorder with a fresh cassette, and slung it over one shoulder. She was glad that the tape with the incriminating evidence was safely stowed in Mr. Hardy's pocket; she certainly didn't want to be lugging it around with her!

She was excited by this chance to see Mr. Hardy in action, actually doing investigative work; and a glance at Vanessa's sparkling blue-gray eyes told her that Van shared her feelings. Although both girls had been dating the Hardy brothers for some time now – Vanessa longer than Megan – neither one had ever had the opportunity to watch their father work. They'd seen a little of it in July, when Laura's sister had been killed, but had missed most of the action in New York. They'd heard plenty about it, of course, but neither of them had ever had such an up-close look at Mr. Hardy in his professional guise. Megan's lips twitched as a memory struck her: _I saw him in January when he was working…but he was tied up all the time!_

Once outside Caesars Palace, they found they couldn't get too close to the stage, for another scene from a Shakespearean play was being put on, much to the approval and applause of the watching crowd of tourists. They walked to the edge of the crowd and stopped. Megan watched the performance, recognizing the scene as being from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , which seemed highly appropriate to the season, in her opinion.

Fenton didn't seem to be daunted by not being able to get close. He stared fixedly at the stage for a moment, then closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he opened them and stared once more. He repeated the procedure several times, until he had the scene locked in his mind. Megan and Vanessa were fascinated, and stared at him in admiration. Laura smiled and murmured, "Have it now?"

He nodded. "I can visualize the crime now."

 _No wonder he's so good at what he does!_ Megan marveled. _If he could picture a crime just by looking at a stage from a distance, and looking at a videotape for a few minutes – he's amazing!_ She whispered something of this to Vanessa, who nodded in silent agreement.

Now Fenton crooked a finger at them, and they followed him past the reenactment stage, across the lawns and towards the nearby woods.

"Back in these woods, girls, is where Evan Reed's body was found," he explained as they walked. "I want to take a look at that."

Sure enough, as they got closer, they could see a section of the trees cordoned off by yellow police crime scene tape. This was where the young parking valet's body had been discovered, dumped in concealing shrubbery at some point between his murder and eleven p.m.

Vanessa leaned against a tree and watched, smiling, as Fenton reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of thin plastic gloves. _He's just like Frank – or rather, Frank's just like him!_ she thought _. Now I know where Frank gets it…only with Mr. Hardy it doesn't seem quite as weird as with Frank!_

Laura looked at her husband quizzically when he produced the gloves, and he gave her an apologetic shrug. "Old habits die hard," he admitted sheepishly, and she laughed and shook her head as he ducked beneath the police tape. Megan and Vanessa watched closely, and noted he didn't touch the blood-soaked area where the body had obviously lain, but merely skirted around the edges for a few minutes. Then, with a satisfied grunt, he leaned forward and picked something up from the grass.

"I saw something else on the video," Fenton commented. "Something shiny, hanging from a pocket. I didn't think I'd find it, though. Our murderer killed Reed there—" he pointed toward the stage. "and dragged him here to dump the body."

He held up his find, and they saw it was a pair of sunglasses. He looked through them, and muttered "prescription lenses," then examined them closely, and after a moment nodded grimly. "They're designer lenses – thought they might have initials on them, but there's only one: a 'C'. The other one's scratched or worn off."

"How did the police miss something like that?" Laura asked. "Or do you think someone else has been here since it was searched? No, you said you'd seen them on the videotape…."

Fenton shrugged. "I don't know. It happens. I'll turn them over to Lieutenant Hunt, though, as soon as I see him." He took a plastic bag from his pocket – Vanessa nearly burst out laughing, but managed to control it – and placed the sunglasses in it, then stripped off his plastic gloves, and ducked back under the police tape to rejoin the others.

Emerging from the woods, they walked back past the little stage, past the statues, through the tourist throngs, heading towards the hotel once more. But once on the sidewalk, Vanessa halted.

"Megan, want to go get some ice cream?" she suggested. "I'd like some, I think."

The little redhead nodded. "Sure. Laura? Mr. Hardy? Come with us?"

"I've got to get to the police station to turn in this evidence," Fenton replied, "otherwise I'd take you up on it. I don't know how Hunt will take me violating a crime scene, but I need to turn in these glasses." He pulled the little sack from his pocket. "I know what's on them now; I don't need to keep them."

"I'll go with you, Fenton," Laura said, smiling.

Megan grinned and activated the camcorder. She shot some footage of Fenton holding the sunglasses. "It's too bad you can't put them on, Mr. Hardy," she teased him. "You'd make a regular James Bond."

He broke into laughter, dropped the glasses back into his pocket, and departed, holding his wife's hand.

"They're so sweet!" Vanessa commented, looking after them. "I've never had much of a chance to see them together; he's always gone so much with his work. But they make such a cute couple!"

Megan nodded agreement. It was hard to believe now, but eight months before, she had regarded Fenton Hardy with awe that bordered on terror, so that the mere act of speaking to him had been an effort. Things had changed, that was certain! She smiled, thinking back. _I'd never have believed, back then, that I could tease him about looking like James Bond – or that he would hold me and comfort me the way he did back there in the hotel room! What a difference!_

The two girls walked slowly down the street towards one of the numerous ice-cream shops. Megan practiced with the camera as they went, shooting footage of various things, more for the fun of playing with Frank's new toy than anything else. When they reached their destination, she switched it off, and they went inside.

The little shop was air-conditioned, and the girls decided to eat there, rather than walking back with the hot sun melting their ice cream. They perched on stools at one of the small, high tables, and settled down to the serious business of licking the cones.

"Wonder when the boys will get back?" Vanessa crunched a piece of peppermint candy.

"Soon, I hope. I wish we'd gone with them," Megan replied. "It would have been more fun – although watching Mr. Hardy was marvelous, don't get me wrong!"

Vanessa nodded. "I know what you mean. Yeah, we'd have had more fun with the boys, even if the ride was a little rough."

###

They left a little later, and wandered further down the street, looking into store windows. Vanessa halted in front of one featuring computer supplies.

"I'd like to check in here. I've been looking for something for Mom, and they might have it here."

Megan grinned surreptitiously, recalling the miniature hot-air balloon that was supposedly for Andrea, but merely said, "There are public restrooms just down that alley—" She pointed to the sign. "I think I'll duck down there, and then meet you in the shop."

"Okay," Vanessa replied, and disappeared through the doorway.

Megan walked into the alley and headed for the restroom entrance at the far end. She paused for a moment, checking to make sure she'd turned the camera's power off – no sense running the battery down, after all! – and was about to resume her walk when she was startled to see two elongated shadows, looming large past her. She turned slightly, just as someone slapped a meaty hand across her mouth – and another someone said:

"Give us the camera, like a good girl, and you won't get hurt!"


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you so much, Cherylann and Max2013!

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 16

Automatically, Megan struggled against the man's grasp. At first, she didn't consciously choose to go against his 'be a good girl' command, she just struggled because she wanted free! But when she realized that these goons were _again_ after the camera – _but they can't get the strap over my head when the guy's hand is over my mouth!_ – she fought fiercely. She opened her mouth slightly, against the sweaty palm, and bit down _hard_ , as hard as she could, while kicking frantically backwards. The man holding her yelped, and swore, and loosened his grip long enough for Megan to let out one loud, piercing scream.

The two men looked at each other, and their curses blistered the air. One of them made another grab at the camera strap, yanking to get it over her head, but encountering his partner's arm, was forced to desist. Megan kicked at him again, and stamped her foot down on her captor's, wishing she was wearing high-heeled boots instead of sandals.

Suddenly, she felt a hard shove connect, and she fell backwards, landing solidly on the pavement as the man released his hold on her. Shaken but unhurt, Megan protectively clutched the camcorder and strap in both arms, and let out another screech. _Someone's_ _got to hear me!_

Someone had; running footsteps announced the arrival of help, and Megan saw Vanessa charge into the alley, screaming "Let her go! Leave her alone!" Vanessa reached the little group, but before she could do more than slap at the attackers, who were again grabbing for the camera, an authoritative voice yelled "LET THEM GO!"

Megan stared, bewildered. Standing at the end of the alley, glaring balefully at the two men who had attacked her, was Cameron Jacobs! He rushed into the alley, grabbed one of the men by the scruff of the neck and threw him to the ground, then whirled and kicked the other man's rear, hard. "GET OUT OF HERE AND LEAVE HER ALONE!" Jacobs bellowed, and the two thugs took off running. Jacobs strode after them, and stood at the alley opening, as if to make sure they were gone. Then, he returned to the girls.

"Are you two all right?" he asked.

Vanessa had helped Megan to her feet and brushed her off, and was standing with her arm tightly about the shorter girl "I'm fine," she answered. "I just got here. Megan, are you okay?"

Megan nodded. "Yes." She was still bewildered. Why had Cameron Jacobs helped them? She didn't like him at all, but still, he had just saved her from those goons, and she _was_ grateful. "Thank you, thank you a lot," she said to him, smiling weakly. "You were great!"

"It's nice to see people will still help other people occasionally," Vanessa observed. She was wary of Cameron Jacobs too, but what he had just done couldn't be denied.

"I try to do it whenever I can," Jacobs said. "What were those two after, anyway?"

"They wanted this." Megan lifted the camcorder on its strap.

"My dear girl, surely a video camera isn't as important as your life – why didn't you just give it to them?" he questioned, reasonably.

"It's not mine," Megan said. "It belongs to my boyfriend. He trusted me to take care of it."

Jacobs frowned slightly. "I'm sure he would understand – but if he values a camera over you, he needs to get his priorities straight!" he commented.

Megan bristled at that. "His priorities are just fine, thanks."

"I'd be happy to walk you girls back to your hotel." Cameron Jacobs changed the subject smoothly, and smiled at them warmly, his green eyes appreciative.

"Thank you, but I think we'll be fine." Vanessa took charge. "We're not quite done with our shopping, but we do appreciate the offer."

"Yes, thank you again for the rescue!" Megan chimed in, and managed to return Jacobs' smile with one of her own, although it lacked some of its usual charm and sparkle.

"Any time," he replied, with a sketchy little bow, and watched them depart with those cool green eyes.

"Whew!" Vanessa blew out a relieved breath as they regained the busy, crowded sidewalk of the main street. "I'm glad he showed up, but I'm glad to be away from him, too!"

"Me too," Megan agreed. She glanced at her watch. "Shouldn't Frank and Joe be getting back by now? If they were supposed to meet the guy at ten, even accounting for that taking some time, and them not hurrying back…really, they should be back, shouldn't they? Or shouldn't we have heard from them?"

"Probably whatever they learned made them take off to follow the next part of the case." Vanessa ventured a guess. "And maybe their phones wouldn't pick up a signal, if they're in the mountains."

"I suppose you're right," Megan nodded. She sighed. "You know, I think I'm shopped out for now. Let's go back to the hotel."

###

When Laura and Fenton returned to Caesars Palace, they found Megan and Vanessa sitting in the lobby, waiting for them. The girls told them of the attack on Megan, and that Cameron Jacobs, of all people, had rescued them from the assailants.

Fenton's dark eyebrows raised expressively. "Now that's something I wouldn't have figured on!" he exclaimed. "From what I know of the man, it doesn't seem to be in character."

Laura shook her head. "He probably did it to get on my good side," she commented. "He knows Megan and Vanessa are with us, and that we'd hear about it. He's that type – quick to grab an opportunity like that."

"He really should know better," Fenton commented as he smiled appreciatively at his wife. "If he knew you any better, he'd know to lay off."

"I think that's the point, honey," Laura said as she brushed off some imaginary dust from the front of her blouse. "I don't want him to know me any better."

"What did you find out at the police station?" Vanessa asked eagerly.

"Well, I believe the lieutenant thinks I'm a real pest," Fenton grinned, "but a useful one. He didn't fuss too much about violating the crime scene when I gave him the sunglasses and the tape! And they've figured out what sort of knife killed Evan Reed," Mr. Hardy continued. "It's an unusual one – the best name the police can come up with for it is a curved half-katana. They're specialty weapons; hand-built. The interesting thing about it, is there's only one person currently in the area who is reported to own one…at least, that is registered as owning one."

"Yes?" Megan prompted, as he paused. "Who?"

"Someone we met on the lake cruise," Mr. Hardy said thoughtfully. "A man named Randall Claremont."

Vanessa caught her breath. "The letter 'C'!"

#####

Frank wasn't exactly sure what he was actually seeing, or if he was dreaming. It seemed like Joe was kneeling next to him, with his face turned away, looking back at something over his shoulder. _What's Joe looking at? Who's talking?…it doesn't sound like Joe._

Frank wanted to close his eyes and sleep, in the worst possible way, but every time he tried, Joe was there, talking to him, making him respond, waking him up. He didn't want to wake up, he wanted to sleep. He was freezing cold, shivering, and his whole body hurt. Maybe if he went to sleep, he'd feel better.

He heard the voice again, sounding distant and muffled, and he tried to shift to see the speaker. That was a mistake. Fiery agony lanced through his body, and he gasped and squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

"Lie still, Frank." It was Joe speaking, softly. "Don't move."

 _Why did he need to lie still? Was it an animal of some kind, threatening them?_ Frank opened his eyes again, and cautiously turned his head. _There._ He could see it now, past Joe's rigid body. A man with a rifle raised, pointed at…pointed at them? _Why would he be pointing a gun at us?_ Frank saw Joe slowly raise his hands up into the air, but otherwise Joe didn't move. He remained where he was, almost as if he was sheltering Frank with his own body. Frank tried to move again, to see better.

"Don't move, Frank," Joe repeated, very quietly.

"That's right." It was that other voice again – _the man with the gun? It must be him._ Frank was really too tired to care who it was, but the image nagged at him. _Why was this guy pointing a gun at them?_ "Nice and slow, boy. I could blow your head off, better believe it. But it ain't you I want, and I'm not of a mind to kill more than I have to, right now."

Frank missed the next few words, if indeed the man continued speaking. There was a strange buzzing in his ears, obliterating other sounds. He swallowed, trying to make sense of what was going on with his body. _Pain._ He remembered that well enough. _Something…a rockslide! They were in the middle of nowhere, and the mountainside had come cascading down on him_. Why were they here? He was supposed to be on vacation in Tahoe, wasn't he? Why couldn't he remember? _Maybe later…._

"You're not killing my brother." Joe's voice, harsh and grating and determined brought him back to the present again. Frank blinked and tried to look around, trying to make sense of this bizarre situation. _He should do something, right? What could he do?_ If he moved…no. Moving was worse than painful, it was agonizing. And if he cried out in pain, the guy with the gun would know he was doing something…trying to do something. _And the world kept phasing in and out, and his ears kept buzzing, and he was trying so hard to remember – having to consciously_ _try_ _to remember what had happened…and that they were in trouble. In danger._

Concentrating fiercely, Frank moved his right hand crabwise over the ground, seeking one of the rocks which littered everything. _There are plenty of rocks…enough of them fell on my head…I just need to pick one up…._

"I'm not going to let you kill him." Joe again. And that other voice, suddenly coming through with crystal clarity.

"Move away from him…now. Or I'll shoot you both."

Fingers moved, searching over the rocks… _hold onto it, don't drop it._ Frank turned his head again, and saw the gunman raise the rifle and sight it – aiming it at Joe! With a burst of energy that came from some unknown source, Frank Hardy grabbed a fist-sized stone, sat up behind Joe, screaming in agony as he did so, and hurled the rock with every ounce of strength he could muster. The missile hit the man in the stomach, causing him to drop the rifle to the ground as he doubled over. Joe lunged forward, diving at their attacker…and Frank collapsed back onto the rocky ground, and let darkness take him.

###

"Frank…Frank?"

There it was again, that disembodied voice – Joe, nagging at him, making him wake up, when he was so tired…so horribly tired. Frank forced his heavy eyelids up fractionally.

"Yeah?" It was barely a croak, scarcely a whisper of sound.

"Nice throw."

Joe was smiling down at him, and he tried to smile back. He noticed there was a bandage stuck slantwise on Joe's cheek, holding split skin together, and what looked to be dried blood smeared on his face. _How had Joe gotten hurt? Oh, yeah…rocks. Rockslide. That's right…rocks…._

"I'm sleepy…can't I go to sleep now?" Frank whispered. "Please, Joe?"

"No, not yet. You need to hang on a little while longer, bro. Just until we make it out of here okay, then you can sleep; I promise."

 _Why did Joe look so sad and worried? They'd make it out of…here? Wouldn't they? Where was 'here' anyway?_ Frank was too tired to try and remember.

"Talk to me a little bit. Do you remember what happened?" Joe busied himself with the travois once again, tightening the lashings, tying down the windbreaker sleeves over the springy pine boughs, tucking the first aid kit into a windbreaker pocket. He couldn't believe what Frank had just done, sitting up and flinging that rock; taking out the gun and giving Joe the chance to fight. The sound of Frank's scream still echoed frighteningly in his mind. He'd never heard Frank scream like that before. _But he sat up! He sat up, remember? His back can't be broken – or his spine damaged – if he managed to sit up! That's good, right? It's good!_ If only Frank didn't look so fragile now….

"I remember the…rocks." Frank fought for the memories. "And you told me…it was a slide." He stopped and waited a few moments, trying to gather enough strength to continue. "We're…in the middle of…nowhere." _Why did Joe look so worried? They'd taken out the bad guy, hadn't they? Nothing to worry about…._

"Here we go – hang on…." Joe said softly.

Suddenly, Frank felt himself being raised, and shifted. Pain lanced through him again, and he cried out, but the movement didn't stop; Joe was dragging him onto something bumpy and rough, and he wouldn't stop, and it hurt _, oh! how it hurt! Joe, please stop, please don't do this, it hurts, please stop…._

Finally the motion ceased, but now Joe was doing something else, tying him onto the rough, bumpy something…. _Why is he tying me down? I don't like this!_ Frank struggled feebly against whatever it was restraining him, and felt Joe's hands holding him quiet…and heard Joe speaking again.

"Frank, lie still, please. Just take it easy. You've gotta be tied on; otherwise you'll slip off and be hurt worse. Just stay still for me, huh? We've got to get out of here."

"Can I…go to sleep…now?" It was like a litany…he already knew the response before Joe answered him.

"No, not yet – stay with me a little while longer. Just till we get back to Tahoe."

Then whatever it was Frank was tied to, tilted upwards. The world began moving very, very slowly around him, and he heard Joe grunting with the effort of pulling. _We must be starting back to Tahoe…but isn't that a long way to walk? Joe shouldn't have to drag me, I should get up and walk on my own…._

"Jeez, Frank…just how much…weight have you put on? I think…you should…lay off the pizza…for awhile…." The words came in a series of disconnected mutters.

Frank tried to comprehend what was happening, but he was so very, very tired. He tried to keep his eyes open, to obey Joe's repeated commands to stay awake. But the effort was too great, and he let them slide closed…and the world around him faded into nothing.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you kindly, Cherylann and Max2013!

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 17

Joe dragged the travois over the rocky ground, stumbling again and again over the rough terrain. This wasn't nearly as easy as they made it look on TV. And Frank seemed to weigh a ton, even though Joe knew his brother wasn't in the least overweight. He felt his muscles protesting, as he yanked the travois free of another hang-up. That was another thing! This path was very rough and rutted, and he had to keep jerking the litter to get it to move. He was positive that he was hurting Frank. And each yank threatened to tear the travois apart.

 _We're supposed to be on vacation!_ Joe set his teeth and plodded on, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other. He tried to remember when he'd been so utterly miserable before, without much success. _I'm all for solving mysteries and good detective work, but sometimes a guy needs to relax, and not worry about solving a crime a month – or a week…or a day, damn it! I wanted to spend time with Vanessa and catch some rays on the beach! Being stranded in the mountains of Nevada is not my idea of a good time!_

Joe had progressed perhaps another hundred yards when he realized that he hadn't heard Frank in some time. He paused and glanced over his shoulder, peering at Frank's ashen face in consternation. Frank's features had gone slack; he wasn't just being quiet, he was unconscious. Joe felt his heart constrict. _I tried so hard to keep him awake!_ he protested silently. _I tried so hard!_ Maybe Frank hadn't slipped into a coma, perhaps he had merely passed out from exhaustion, but even so, Joe knew time was against them, now. He couldn't stop to check, he had to keep moving. Joe plunged forward, leaning against the weight of the travois, jerking it with a vengeance down the rocky, rutted path. _Maybe I could have tried attaching it to my cycle – but no…it wasn't strong enough for that...even if the cycle was usable, and I'm not sure it was…._

###

"Joe…"

Joe jumped when he heard the voice. Frank was awake again! And his voice was clearer! Joe halted and gently lowered the travois to the ground, then knelt beside it.

"How ya doin'?" He located the water bottle where he had tucked it in beside Frank, took a hasty swig, then held it to his brother's lips.

"You've got to – listen to reason," Frank muttered. "Go on by yourself. Leave me here – and go. It'll – be faster."

"Stop talking like that," Joe snapped. "Remember that goon with the rifle? What's to stop him from waking up and following us? I unloaded his gun and threw the bullets away, but I didn't have time to do anything more than that!" Joe was glad Frank was awake and talking – and rational! – but they needed to get moving; time was against them.

"Then let me walk," Frank said softly. "It'll go faster."

"No way!" Joe protested. "You'd kill yourself! You'll bleed to death! Maybe you didn't notice it, brother mine, but you've got something stuck in your shoulder! And you don't have enough strength to walk, anyway."

Frank glanced at his arm, and his lips twisted in a faint semblance of a smile. "I noticed it….It would go faster, Joe; you could help me….It can't – be easy, dragging me."

"It would be easier if you would lay off the Chunky Monkey," Joe countered, in a desperate effort to make a joke. Frank hardly ever ate ice cream; the other day had been the first time Joe had seen him have it in a month. _Please laugh, Frank…please, we've got to lighten this situation a little, or I'm gonna lose my sanity…!_

And somehow, Frank came through for him, as he almost always did. "For sure," he whispered, and managed a little chuckle.

Joe hoisted the travois again, and forged ahead. He plodded in silence for some time, head down, and eyes on the pathway just ahead of his feet, concentrating on setting one foot in front of the other. When he raised his head to look around, however, he found himself staring blankly at a split in the pathway. He didn't remember the road forking.

"Frank?" He glanced over his shoulder. "You awake? Do you remember there being a fork in the access road?"

"Huh?" Frank's voice sounded blurry again, but he was trying his best. "A fork? No….I can't see it, Joe, how can I tell?" He was trying to twist around to get a view of the path."

Joe shook his head. _Great. Nothing can ever be easy, can it?_ "Stop struggling, Frank. You're making it harder for me. Just stay still." He mentally flipped a coin, and started off down one of trails.

Less than a minute later, he felt the travois start to buckle, the vines finally giving way to the stresses placed on them. He quickly lowered it to the ground, and went to untie Frank.

"What's wrong?" Frank blinked uncertainly. "Why'd we stop?"

"I need to fix this." Joe indicated the pine boughs. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to move you off, so that I can work on it."

"I can move…myself." Frank tried to shift sideways. "I can…get up."

"You lamebrain, stop it! You can't!" Joe nearly ran out of patience. What was making Frank so damned stubborn?

"Yes…I…can." Gasping with the effort and gritting his teeth against the pain, Frank was somehow levering himself up on his good elbow, pulling his knees up, trying his hardest to sit up.

Groaning with exasperation but knowing that Frank wasn't about to be talked out of it, Joe put his arms about his brother and raised him to his feet, then half-carried him a few steps and eased him down, propping his back against a tree.

As gently as he could, Joe checked the stick protruding from Frank's arm. The bandages were bloody, but not completely soaked; the bleeding seemed to be under control for the moment. Frank grimaced with pain, and not just from the pain in his arm.

"My back aches," he admitted. "It really aches…and my side…."

"You shouldn't be doing this," Joe told him. "You could have internal injuries, and moving around like this could…"

"If I do, then I'm already dead!" Frank snapped, with sudden vigor. "If I have internal injuries, we can't get out of here in time for any doctor to do me any good, even if a car came by right now! Just let me rest for a minute." His head lolled forward against his chest.

Joe sighed, and returned to his task of repairing the travois. _Sometimes Frank has great ideas,_ he mused _, and sometimes he has really STUPID ones! Like thinking he can walk himself out of here – that's one of his all-time stupidest!_ Savagely, Joe yanked at the knotted cords.

When the carry-all was as sturdy as he could make it, Joe crouched beside Frank once again. "Hey pal, let's hit the road. Time to get you back on your litter, O Great Caesar."

Frank lifted his head and stared at his brother. "There is no way on God's green earth that I am getting back on that thing," he said firmly.

Joe blinked in surprise. "You don't have a choice," he retorted. "And just when did you become the stubborn one, huh? That's my territory you're horning in on, bud!"

Frank laughed softly, and winced. "Darn it, will you stop cracking the jokes? It hurts too much to laugh!"

"Only if you stop being a stubborn idiot. Less argument, more action; that's the key. Now come on, let's get you on the travois."

But Frank simply refused. Finally Joe looped one of the cords of the travois around his shoulder, then bent and put his arms about Frank and lifted him to his feet. _At least I'll have my back-up handy, when Frank admits he can't walk,_ he thought. He drew Frank's right arm across his shoulder, and wrapped his own arm about Frank's waist. Slowly, they took one step…and then another.

Frank's breath was harsh in Joe's ear, and he had to labor for each step. But he persisted; one step, then another…and yet another.

"Frank, give it up; lie down and let me drag you."

"N…no…little…further…."

Another thirty feet traversed. The unused travois dragged at Joe's aching shoulder. "Frank, use the travois, huh?"

"…no…not yet…."

Who would ever have thought a few yards would be such a monumental task? They'd both scampered up and down football fields with no thought for the distance. Now as Joe imagined ten-yard markers in the road ahead, each one seemed an insurmountable distance away.

Before he could once again urge Frank to let himself be carried, Joe felt his brother's body sag limply. Frank's knees buckled, and he collapsed against Joe, his eyes closed.

#####

"Randall…and Lisa?" Laura couldn't believe it. "No way could that nice couple have murdered that boy!" she declared.

"Why not?" Fenton asked mildly.

"Motive! What sort of motive?" she demanded.

"Honey, I just said he has a knife like that," Fenton said soothingly. "I don't necessarily think he's a suspect. It's just…strange…that he would be in town the very time a man is killed by a specialty knife like one that he owns. And then, there's the glasses…."

"The letter 'C'," Vanessa said again. "C for Claremont?"

"I'm not sure." Fenton shook his head. "It's all speculation at this point, anyway, until we have more information. It could be anyone. It could be someone who has a knife like that but bought it privately somewhere. It's not like knives are in a national registry. His name came up because it was an unusual piece, that he bought at an auction a few months back. It got flagged because of the size of the weapon."

Laura still looked unhappy.

"Don't let it worry you, sweetheart," Fenton reassured her, but his thoughts were troubled too. _It's too coincidental – the Claremonts here in town, they own the knife, they had time that morning, before the cruise started…._ Shaking himself free of the Claremonts for the moment, Fenton checked his watch – and immediately had another worry on his mind. "Have you girls heard anything from Frank or Joe?"

Both Megan and Vanessa shook their heads. "Not a word," Vanessa said. She got up and went to the front desk to check for messages, followed by Laura. There was nothing for any of them.

"Well…." Fenton murmured. "Well…I'll give them until five or so, and then we send out a search team."

Laura looked a little worried, but she knew that anything could have come up. "Just because we haven't heard from them doesn't mean there's something wrong," she said, "But I swear, I'm going to ream them thoroughly for worrying us unnecessarily by not calling, when I see them again!" Evidently the former subject was still weighing on Laura's mind, for she suddenly burst out: "The Claremonts said they were going to Reno – or, at least 'going north,' for a few days. How could they have been here to do anything?"

Fenton gazed at her sympathetically. "Honey," he reminded her gently, "just because they said they were going doesn't mean they actually did. Nobody's seen them around, but that doesn't mean they aren't still in Stateline."

At that moment, an unwelcome visitor arrived, in the shape of Cameron Jacobs, who breezed into the Caesars lobby as if he owned the place. Spotting the Hardy group, he made his way over to them, smiling cordially.

"I'm glad I caught you down here!" he said. "I came to invite you to the Grand Tahoe tonight, to attend a show being put on by a couple of well-known comedians and I'd be honored if you, Laura, and your husband and sons, and these two lovely young ladies, would attend as my guests. I still feel badly about that Wheel of Fortune falling on Mr. Hardy, and I'd like to make it up to you."

Laura glanced at Fenton, half-turning her back to Jacobs so that he couldn't see the expression on her face. She was frowning, and mouthing _no! no!_ Laura would rather do _anything_ else than be Cameron Jacobs' guest. But Fenton was looking intrigued. He wanted to talk to Jacobs, and here was the perfect opportunity.

"Let's discuss it," he said briefly, and drew the other man a short distance from the ladies.

Jacobs was free with details. There were two shows, one beginning at seven p.m., the other at nine. Cocktails were included with the show tickets. Either show would be fine; it didn't matter which one they preferred to attend.

Fenton said they'd consider it…and then went on to ask Jacobs, softly, if he knew anything about Evan Reed's girlfriend Kayla.

Jacobs nodded, morosely. "Yes, that was a bad business. I had to let her go, because she was caught stealing from a guest – a rather sizable sum of money, too. The guest intended to charge her with theft – I tried to talk him out of going to the police, but he insisted! – and she killed herself that night."

Fenton's eyes narrowed slightly. This didn't quite match the story Laura had related. "Any notion why she'd have stolen the money?"

"Unfortunately, I suspect she was trying to get cash to help Evan Reed pay off his gambling debts," Jacobs told him. "I wish they'd come to me for help – I would have been more than happy to give him a hand, and to see about getting him some help with his gambling problem. Now he's lost his life too…it's very sad."

"Yes, it certainly is. Do you know anything about the people that Reed was in debt to?"

The resort owner shrugged. "A little. From what I gather, one of the groups from Vegas is trying to make some inroads in Tahoe. From what I've read on the subject, that's how they work: send in loan sharks to help out-of-luck gamblers, or send in people to provide 'protection.' Reed had been in a while back, begging me for money, and then two days later, he seemed to have plenty. He kept saying he had to help his mother with an operation – that's the oldest story in the book, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's a pretty shopworn excuse," Fenton agreed, but inwardly, his mind was racing. _So he_ _did_ _come to you for money and you refused to help him…I wonder if, for once, the story about a parent's operation might not actually have been true? And what about Randall Claremont? Could the over-achiever from Sacramento actually be a front man for the Mob? A definite possibility._ Aloud, he continued, "Well, Mr. Jacobs, if the boys are back from their errand by then, we'll consider going to one of the shows tonight, and thank you very much for the offer."

"That's great!" Jacobs enthused. "I'll leave the tickets at Will-Call, for both shows, and you can pick them up at your convenience. Hope to see you later! Goodbye, girls…see you tonight, Laura." And with that suggestive remark and one lingering glance at Laura, Cameron Jacobs took his departure.

"Ooohhhh!" Laura shuddered. "That man!"

Her husband laughed. "He's got good taste in women, honey. Well, we've been stuck inside for a while – who would like to take a nice, leisurely walk on the beach?" All three women answered in the affirmative, and they walked to the entrance, emerging onto the sidewalk once more.

"This is going to be slow," Laura cautioned. "We're accommodating a certain someone's still-healing back, remember?"

Fenton grinned down at her, and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. "Fussbudget," he murmured, and was about to kiss her when he stopped, staring straight ahead. "For Pete's sake!" he muttered. For there on the sidewalk stood a person with a very familiar face – it was the boy who had jumped from the _Royal Tahoe_ into the lake! The boy was staring at Fenton, looking as if he was trying to decide something.

 _He's down past Caesars – if he takes off running, I'll never catch him!_ the detective thought, feeling his back twinge with pain at the mere thought of running again. But to his surprise, the boy nodded to him, and then turned and ducked into one of the nearby souvenir shops.

"Excuse me, girls; I'll be right back." Mr. Hardy squeezed Laura's shoulders briefly, and walked as rapidly as he could, to the little shop.

When he went in, he found the young man standing hesitantly beside a rack of decorated shirts, watching the door. Fenton smiled encouragingly at him.

"I'm glad to see you up and around," he greeted the boy, who looked to be about Joe's age. He had brownish hair and hazel eyes – altogether nondescript in features and coloring, and wearing a worried expression.

"I wanted to thank you for saving me," the young man said shyly. "I'd never gone off the cruise boat into the lake before – it was harder than I expected. Oh…my name is Streeter – Thomas Streeter."

"And I'm Fenton Hardy." The detective paused a beat, trying to phrase his question diplomatically. "Thomas, why did you run, and jump off the boat?"

Streeter flushed guiltily, and stared down at his feet. "I heard Cec talking about me – she thought I poisoned those passengers!" he muttered. "But I didn't!" he insisted, looking up into Fenton's eyes. "But…but…."

"But…?"

"…but I have a record," Thomas Streeter admitted. "I stole some jewelry once – when I was younger – but I got a real light sentence. I've been trying to stay away from trouble, but it doesn't seem to be working out. I was afraid no one would believe me, if I was accused of poisoning people." He suddenly looked very nervous. "But I do know who was behind it."

"Who?" Fenton demanded, but the boy shook his head violently.

"No – no! I can't tell you! I'd be in even bigger trouble!"

"Thomas, I won't tell anyone…" Mr. Hardy began, but Streeter just shook his head harder.

"No! If I'm even seen talkin' to you, I could be in deep trouble!" Thomas glanced around, surreptitiously. "I just wanted to thank you for rescuing me, and to tell you why I ran – that's all. I shouldn't have said that, about knowing who was behind the food poisoning. It might not be true, anyway…."

Fenton was going to question him further, request his help – he had found, over the years, that asking someone for help often got more results than demanding answers – when abruptly, Thomas' eyes widened, and the boy ducked around behind a counter, and darted toward the rear of the store. The next second, the _bang_! of the back door was heard.

Fenton turned around, looking to see what had spooked the boy, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. He sighed, and went back out to the sidewalk, to rejoin Laura and the girls.

When he reached them, Fenton took Laura's arm and headed them for the beach. "Let's get that walk taken," he suggested, and as they paced slowly toward the shore, he filled them in on his strange conversation with Thomas Streeter.

"Do you think there's any chance you might be able to talk him into telling you?" Laura asked, when he finished.

He wrinkled his nose expressively, for a moment looking a great deal more like _Joe_ than Frank. "Doubtful."

Megan leaned in to make a comment, as they crowded close together on the sidewalk. "Maybe Vanessa or I could try talking to him." She dimpled suddenly, and her contagious giggle rippled out. "Sometimes girls can get guys to say things they wouldn't tell anyone else."

Vanessa chuckled. "I'm willing – just as long as you two are ready to call off Joe, if he happens to hear about it!"

Fenton and Laura laughed, and the four of them started again towards the beach. But before they had taken more than a few steps, a burly man suddenly appeared in front of them, knocked Megan backwards, snatched the camera from her grasp, and took off through the crowd!


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you kindly, Cherylann and Max2013! I just discovered that all the reviews and chapter announcements, while appearing here, were being delivered to the Spam folder in my email. So thank you again for continuing to post nice things.

 **Ides of August**

By Aspen & Evergreen

Chapter 18

Megan hit the pavement hard. _Ouch! Damn, I'm going to have bruises back there for weeks!_ Only momentarily dazed by the impact, she struggled to sit up, and felt an arm come about her shoulders.

"Megan, sweetie, are you hurt?" Laura was bending over her anxiously.

"No, I'm okay – just sore." Megan managed a rueful chuckle, which turned into a gasp of dismay. "The camera! He took the camera!"

"Well, Fenton went after him," Mrs. Hardy tried to reassure her. "He'll try to get it back."

###

Indeed, Fenton Hardy had gone after the camera-thief! As the man took off through the crowd, Fenton broke into full pursuit, running as fast as he could, adrenaline rush masking the pain from his back, as determination to catch the guy fueled him.

 _We've already fended off so many attempts to get that camera – I'm not going to let 'em get away with it now – even if the film isn't in it anymore!_ he vowed, swerving to follow his quarry across a grassy lawn as the man tried to escape. Fenton kicked his speed up a notch, focusing on the camera bouncing at the end of its strap as the man ran, zoning in on it, heedless of anything other than the object of his pursuit.

 _Come on, come on_ – Fenton saw his quarry turn and dart again in the direction of the street, and he cut across the corner of a parking lot, attempting to head him off. A low hedge loomed in his path, and the detective gathered himself and leaped over it, this time feeling a definite twinge in his back but managing to ignore it. A bench barred his way next, and he vaulted over that too, still focused on the escaping thief.

 _Give it up, you damned…._ Fenton was starting to feel winded now, his breath coming harder, and a stitch was developing in his side. But he was beginning to close the gap, just a little. The other man was running slower too, holding a hand pressed to his side; despite his muscular physique, it looked like Fenton was in a little better shape – if it hadn't been for the back injury, he'd have caught him in short order. _Why aren't there any helpful people around who will try and_ _stop_ _this guy? Why is it just me?_ Nearly breathless, he managed a shout: "Somebody stop him!"

And to his intense surprise, in response to the yell, a man suddenly stepped from the crowd, grabbed the thief by the arm and swung him around, then wrestled him to the ground. Tourists scattered in all directions, wanting to leave the vicinity of trouble.

"Taking things that aren't yours, are you?" Michael Ranson glared down at the man beneath him. Nearby, his young wife Erica stood with her hands pressed over her mouth as she watched her new husband struggle to hold down the escaping robber. Fenton panted up and skidded to a halt beside them. "You after this guy, Hardy?" Ranson inquired.

Fenton nodded, leaning over and bracing his hands on his knees while he fought for breath. The stitch in his side tore at him, and his back was now forcibly reminding him that he'd just hurt it the day before. It probably hadn't been such a good idea to tear after the guy like he had – although it wouldn't have stopped him, even if he had consciously thought about it beforehand!

He reached down and yanked the camcorder from the thief's hands, and hung the strap about his neck once more. "I sure am," he panted. "He snatched this from my son's girlfriend."

Michael Ranson levered himself off the captured man, keeping a tight hold on him, and he and Fenton hauled the thief to his feet. Fenton was glad of Ranson's help – he evidently had a grip of iron, and he looked like he worked out. Not bulky, but there were muscles under the expensive clothing.

Fenton seized the thug's collar and pulled him up close. "Why did you try to steal my son's camcorder?" he demanded, although he _knew_ exactly why – the incriminating video tape had answered _that_ question! But he wanted to hear it for himself.

The man shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "I'm not sayin' nothin'," he muttered defiantly.

Fenton shook him slightly. "Who's paying you, anyway?" he persisted. "This isn't the first time someone's gone after that camera." The only reaction he got was a belligerent glare and increased struggles against Michael Ranson's restraining hands.

"Should we take him to the police?" Ranson asked now.

"Definitely," Fenton agreed. "Maybe they can get some answers out of him." The two shifted their grips on the man, moving to each take one arm, but just as they were about to march him to a less crowded area before calling the police, they were alarmed to hear a strident scream from Erica Ranson!

Whirling, they beheld Erica in the grasp of a second hulking man, who snarled, "Let him go! And give us that camera, or we'll hurt her!"

Fenton looked at Michael Ranson and nodded briefly, indicating that he should obey the command. Ranson, his eyes fixed on his wife's pale, frightened face, loosened his grip, as did the detective. Their captive stepped away, smirking triumphantly.

Fenton started to slowly remove the camera strap from around his neck, but suddenly, he lashed out with one leg, and connected solidly with the stomach of the man holding Erica! The goon doubled over, grunting with the pain of impact, and lost his grip on Erica. Michael Ranson leaped forward and pulled his wife away, and inexplicably, the two thugs took off running once more, heading for the lake shore and the docks. Moments later, the tell-tale whine of jet-ski engines echoed.

Fenton watched them go, disgusted. He beat a fist against his open palm in fury. _I was so_ _close_ _! We almost had one, and we might have gotten some answers as to who's behind this!_ Sighing, he turned to the Ransons.

"Mrs. Ranson, are you all right?" he inquired.

Michael Ranson was holding his bride tightly in his arms, stroking her hair tenderly, while she sobbed on his shoulder, repeating over and over again how frightened she had been, for him and for herself. But when Mr. Hardy spoke to her, Erica raised her head and managed an answer.

"I'm – I'm – I'll be all right. It was just so scary!" she gulped.

"You've had a more exciting honeymoon than you expected, haven't you? I'm glad you weren't hurt. And Mr. Ranson, thank you very much for the assistance – I appreciate it more than you know. I'm sorry our efforts were only partly successful." Fenton patted Frank's camera significantly, and smiled at the couple in farewell. "Hope we see you around again, in better circumstances!" he said, and turned to make his way back to Caesars Palace.

###

When he reached the hotel once more, Fenton found Laura and the girls sitting in the shady colonnade. They were extremely relieved to see his safe return, and Laura stood up and hugged him, at the same time gently scolding him for over-exerting his injured back with the impetuous chase.

"Frank got your looks, but I think Joe's impulsive streak is a direct inheritance from you, too!" she remarked ruefully.

Fenton removed the camcorder strap from about his neck and formally presented the little device to Vanessa. "Here – please, take this to the front desk and ask them to put it in the hotel safe!" he requested. "I'm not going to risk carrying it around any more until we get this whole thing settled! Oh, and Vanessa—" he added, as she turned to go. "Check for phone messages, would you? I called Sam Radley from the police station, and I'm expecting to hear back from him."

As Vanessa departed, Fenton turned to Megan, who was watching him with wide, sober eyes. "Megan, you weren't hurt, were you? That thug knocked you down – again!" He hugged her, carefully. "Frank's going to kill me for letting you be at risk like this; I'm not going to let it happen again!"

"I'm not hurt," Megan told him, returning the hug. "I'm just sorry he got it away from me at all!"

They remained for a few minutes in the welcome shade, talking quietly about the possibility of questioning hotel guests and reenactment people who might possibly have seen the fatal stabbing without realizing what was occurring, just as Frank and the others had. Although it was a long shot, Fenton conceded, there was always a chance!

Vanessa hurried up, holding out a slip of paper. "You have a message from Sam Radley!" she said. Fenton took his cell phone from his pocket, and walked away from them to a more secluded area, punching numbers on the phone as he departed.

"Sam? It's Fenton. What have you got for me?"

" _I did the checking you wanted – called an investigator I know from the Sacramento area, and had the Claremonts checked out."_ Radley's voice came over the wire. _"Fenton, they're very above-board, and Randall Claremont is considered a big community leader. They're big into philanthropy, and doing the right thing."_

"Hmmm…" Fenton commented. "Doesn't sound like what I was looking for, does it?"

" _One thing, though…Lisa Claremont's maiden name was Rimaldi. Now_ _that_ _name jingles a few bells, and there's more than one black mark against the family. If the family didn't own several police officers and judges, the whole clan might be in jail!"_

"In jail…Mafia?" Fenton asked sharply.

" _You got it. The Rimaldis control a big section of the San Francisco syndicate. Although,"_ Radley went on, _"the guy I talked to said that as far as anyone in Sacramento knows, the Claremonts don't have anything to do with Lisa's family."_

Fenton groaned mentally. It was all too possible, and hit way too close to home! _I can't accuse the Claremonts outright, just because of Lisa's family connections with a crime lord!_ _Our_ _family's had the same problem! But still, that would certainly draw all the clues together nicely, now, wouldn't it?_

"Thanks, Sam. I'll let you know if there's anything else I need." Fenton ended the call, and stood thinking a moment. Then he returned to where Megan, Laura and Vanessa awaited him. "Well, Sam had some information for us." He softly related what Sam had told him.

Laura looked sad, but she no longer tried to deny that just possibly, Fenton was onto something. But she hated to think of friendly Lisa being connected with all this sordid mess!

Fenton looked at his watch again. It was nearly five o'clock. "Messages from Frank or Joe?" he asked Vanessa hopefully, but she shook her head.

"Nothing. Do you think something has happened to them?" Her blue-gray eyes held his, willing him to tell her no, he didn't.

"The way this case is going," Fenton replied ruefully, "I wouldn't be at all surprised. What do you say we take the car and make a run in the direction of Mount Rose?" He draped an arm about Laura's shoulders. "Do any of you need anything from your room before we go?"

"Not me," Megan replied, while at the same time Vanessa was shaking her head in negation and saying "I'll be fine till we get back."

The four hurried towards the guest parking lot. They had all tried to conceal their growing apprehension from each other, but truthfully, they were all becoming more and more worried as time passed and nothing was heard from Frank and Joe.

"I think I'd like to stop by the police station and see if I can't drum up some help looking for the boys," Fenton commented as they walked.

"That's a good idea," Laura replied. "What if they aren't on the mountain any more, and have gone somewhere else? We wouldn't have any idea about where to look for them!"

As they neared their rental car, Megan caught her breath. "What's all over the hood?" she demanded.

"And look at the tires!" Vanessa gasped.

The tires on the side of the car nearest them were totally flat, and what appeared to be words written in white paint decorated the hood. Fenton, scowling ferociously, examined the tires, then walked around to the other side of the car, and found the tires there were similarly flat. He bent to look at them.

"Cut!" he snapped. "All four of them! What the hell…?" He focused his attention on the car hood, and read the words covering it. 'Leave Town or Die, Hardy!'

#####

"I told you, idiot!" Joe muttered softly, as he carefully secured Frank to the travois once more. "I told you you couldn't do it!" He was totally relieved that he'd had the foresight to drag that travois along; he'd have hated to have to go back for it! Still, he wasn't looking forward to the rest of the journey.

 _But Frank walked…he managed to stand up and walk – at least for a little while!_ Joe clung to that thought. If Frank was able to stand up and walk, then his back and spine were probably okay…and he didn't have any serious leg injuries. _Internal…._ Joe shuddered. Frank had hit it on the head when he said "if there are, I'm already dead." _There aren't any!_ he assured himself. _It's bruises and cuts and stuff – and his arm!_ The arm was bad enough in itself…and there was still the very real possibility of Frank succumbing to blood loss.

Joe finished his task, and slipped the cords over his shoulders. _If I just take it a little bit at a time_ , he told himself, _I can do this!_

And that's how he took it…in small goals, a little at a time. Ten yards, no further. _That tree…. Now that bush, the one with the flowers on it…. Now that outcropping of rock._ Tug, tug, tug, pull…walk, walk, walk, walk. Over and over again. It was a repeated litany in his mind, one that he, perforce, must keep reiterating again and again. He lost all track of time, and was barely conscious of his surroundings. He didn't care what time it was – and he knew if he stopped and looked at his watch, he'd give up. He'd simply collapse next to Frank. _Keep it in terms of distance, Joe…little bits of distance, that you can control. It's all you can control right now; concentrate on it._ His head pounded unmercifully, and the shoulder with the cord looped over it was developing an intolerable ache.

###

Every other time he gained one of his little goals, he halted and pulled out the water bottle for a sip, and managed to get a little down Frank's throat too.

 _Frank, I wish you would wake up…even delirious you were kinda company! I wish I wasn't out here alone, trying to figure out a way to get us out of this alive! Three-quarters of a mile…I could run three-quarters of a mile in just a few minutes…!_ Tug…tug…pull…walk…walk…walk.

###

"Joe…?" This time when Joe held the water bottle to Frank's lips, Frank swallowed gratefully, and his eyes flickered open. The faintest shadow of a smile curved his mouth. "So far…so good, right?"

"Hang in there; we're gonna make it." Joe tried to grin encouragingly, but Frank's face had already gone slack again, and Joe wasn't sure he had heard the heartening words.

Frank phased in and out of consciousness during the next few stages of the trek. When he was conscious, he seemed to be lucid, but the periods of consciousness and clarity were increasingly brief. Joe's heart ached – he wanted so badly to ease Frank's pain and make things easier for him. _Just…get to the road…I'll get us to the road…and someone will help us…._

The snap of a branch in the distance behind him made the younger Hardy freeze in place and his blood ran cold. He turned around, anticipating seeing the man with the rifle behind him once more…but there was no one there – not yet. Still too far back….

Joe made a conscious effort to go faster, shutting out the knowledge that increasing the speed made it harder on Frank. He knew he had to increase the distance between where he and Frank were, and the man in pursuit. And getting to the road was the key!

Joe felt as if he were moving in slow motion. He couldn't believe how hard it was to pull the travois with his brother on it…couldn't believe how slowly he was covering ground; like a turtle crawling across a highway. He couldn't believe how hard it was becoming to take the next step…and the next…and the next. He couldn't believe how his head ached, and his shoulder burned.

Get to the road – get to safety – find someone who can take Frank to the hospital – that's all that matters.

Another twig snapped, louder this time! And now Joe could hear a grumbling voice muttering behind him.

Now there was no choice. It wasn't a question of trying to outrun this guy any more. He was going to have to take this guy out, to stop the pursuit once and for all. Joe tugged the travois to the shelter of some nearby manzanita bushes and concealed it as best he could. He found a sturdy branch that would do service as a club, and he climbed to the first branch of a large yellow pine that grew close to the path. That was all he could do.

He saw the man come into view, and flattened himself against the tree trunk, hoping – praying! – that the man didn't look up, in his direction. He held tightly to his makeshift weapon with one hand, and to the tree with the other…and as the man came close to the tree, Joe swung down, aiming with both feet – and connected, hard!

The rifle the man had been carrying spun off into the bushes nearby, and he yelped and swore violently. Swinging from one hand, Joe brandished his club and struck hard again, connecting with his adversary's shoulder. The man fell to his knees, and Joe dropped from the tree, his club still clutched tightly in one hand.

The other man scrambled to his feet and charged at Joe, roaring inarticulately in fury. Joe sidestepped, and slammed the branch hard against the man's rear as he passed. This brought a howl from his foe, but the man didn't go down, he staggered a few steps, then regained his balance and returned to the fray.

Joe was both shorter and lighter than his enemy, as well as suffering from injuries and exhaustion. Barely able to keep his feet, he kept slipping and staggering, but he kept possession of that branch, and he had the spur of desperation prodding him. He was also more agile than his opponent, despite the weariness, and he managed to land several blows with the branch, but nothing connected with enough force to knock the guy out.

Finally, he achieved a swing with some momentum behind it, and cracked the man so solidly that he fell backwards and struck his head on the rocky ground. Joe waited…but the man didn't rise to the fight again.

Breathing heavily, Joe dropped his club, and staggered over to the man. He stripped the guy's shirt off, and tied his legs together – and then unfastened the man's belt, and used it to bind his arms behind him.

 _That's all I can do – but it should slow him down enough for us to get to the highway…oh please, God, please let it be enough…._

Shaking with weariness, Joe returned to Frank, who appeared to have slept through the whole thing. Setting his teeth, he pulled the cords over his shoulder once more, and set out down the access road.

###

After what seemed to the exhausted Hardy boy at least a year of walking and jerking on the travois, he paused once again to survey his surroundings…and a _frisson_ of unease went over him. The trees seemed much thicker and grew more densely than he remembered from the road in. _Oh no!_ Could he possibly have taken the wrong turning, back at the fork?

He frowned and looked around, trying to spot anything familiar. _Well, I've just got to keep going,_ he decided. He glanced up at the sun, trying to gauge direction. _I'm going roughly east or southeast,_ he thought _. If I keep going that way, I should come to the highway pretty soon!_

Joe tugged the travois through an especially thick clump of manzanita shrubs, having to yank hard to make it through. He took a step, and then another – and suddenly realized that his foot was stepping into the empty air of a crevice opening directly in front of him!


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you so much, Cherylann, Max2013, BMSH and Penlew (Guest) for your reviews and comments!

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 19

Joe violently windmilled his arms, trying to regain his balance. He twisted around, and clung tightly to the travois, hoping Frank's weight would prevent him from sliding into the earth, and heard his brother's yelp of anguish as the travois was violently jarred. Joe lunged a step away from the crevice edge, and then stood there, panting and gasping for breath.

"S-sorry…sorry, Frank," he managed, at last. He slipped the cords of the travois from his shoulder, easing Frank to the ground, and then slumped down on his hands and knees, dragging in one shuddering breath after another.

 _That was too close…way,_ _way_ _too close!_ Joe gulped in air, and buried his achinghead in his arms _. If I'd fallen…I could have killed Frank, right then and there! Oh, God, my head hurts so much.…and I'm so tired. So exhausted – I'm not sure I can go much further…._

 _And I'm doing it again,_ he realized dismally. _I'm just plowing ahead, not thinking things through. I didn't plan. I thought I could just drag Frank to the road and flag a ride….but now I'm all turned around. What am I going to do? It's a long way back to the fork in the path – and I'd have to get past that guy who tried to kill Frank…._

Joe sprawled there in the dirt and sparse grass and fallen evergreen needles; Frank silent on the travois beside him; and tried to think. _What's going on, anyway? Why in the world is someone trying to kill us? We haven't been on any cases at all – we'd just_ _started_ _to look into the theft cases, and we'd almost dropped it anyway, for lack of leads. And is it just Frank's head these guys are after, or both of us? If they're trying to kill Frank,_ _why_ _? What's he done to cause anyone to want to kill him?_

Joe slowly pushed himself upright, and reached for the first aid kit, tucked into the windbreaker pocket on the travois. He took out two more pain reliever pills, and swallowed them, using the smallest amount of water he could. There wasn't much water left, and Frank needed it more than he did. Wearily, Joe lay back on the uneven ground, and laid his arm across his eyes. He wanted – _no_ , he realized, _he_ _needed_ – a few minutes' rest. Maybe if he rested for a little while, his head would stop throbbing so unmercifully. He let his thoughts run again.

 _Why would anyone want to kill Frank? Someone definitely was trying. Frank had been knocked off the pier…and nearly run down by the guy on the motorcycle. Megan had been attacked while she was holding the camera…._

 _The camera. Was it really someone intent on theft – or was there some other reason that someone wanted Frank's camera? Had Frank unwittingly filmed something that he wasn't aware of? That none of them were aware of?_ _Maybe…maybe he had…_. _Or it might be one of their old enemies who just happened to be in Stateline. Or one of Frank's enemies – does Frank have enemies that I don't have?_ _Maybe it was someone who just didn't like Frank's looks._

But no…no. Joe was sure it was the camera. It had to be the camera.

Joe twisted around until he was sitting upright, and leaned back against the nearest tree. The Tylenol hadn't kicked in yet, but the few minutes' rest had helped a little. He could focus again; things weren't quite so confusing.

As if awakened by Joe's movement, Frank stirred on the travois, and started to struggle against the vines holding him secured to it. Joe moved to kneel beside it, and untied the restraints.

"Easy now—" Very gently, Joe raised Frank to a sitting position, supporting him against his shoulder. He held the water bottle to Frank's lips, tilting it so that the scant amount of liquid flowed easily into his brother's mouth. "That's it…just swallow…there you go."

"Thanks," Frank murmured, without opening his eyes.

Still using the greatest care, Joe eased him back down, and cautiously examined the wound in his arm. The bandages he'd stuffed around the stick earlier were soaked in blood. Joe reached for the first aid kit and pulled out what was left of the gauze padding, and the tape. He removed the blood-soaked gauze from around the stick, and replaced it, then re-taped the whole thing.

"How's that feel?" he asked finally, resettling Frank's arm in the sling.

"Don't ask…" Frank groaned. "Stop fussing with it, huh…? How much further is it to the road?"

Guilt plunged a knife of remorse into Joe's vitals. "I don't know," he admitted. "I got turned around somewhere. We may be lost. I took the wrong fork in the trail, and it's a long way back – and no, I'm not going to leave you here, so don't even say it!"

"You're being…too stubborn," Frank breathed. But he didn't say any more.

Joe gazed down at his brother in remorseful silence. _His head must hurt as much as mine does…he's got that crease in the middle of his forehead that he gets when he's got a bad headache…._

###

"Joe?" Surprisingly, Frank sounded more alert. "Do you remember which direction Mount Rose Highway runs in?"

Joe thought about it for a minute, trying to remember the map Frank had shown him. Finally he managed to visualize the lines. "Southwest to northeast, I think."

Frank fell silent once more, but Joe could tell he was still conscious, and was thinking. Finally he spoke again: "Do you remember which direction the access road ran in?"

"Not offhand. Let me think." Joe shut his eyes and tried to concentrate. _Why can't I remember this? It's important…come on, remember! The main road went there…and the access road was off to the left…wasn't it?_ At last he thought he had it. "West….No, wait. It was more north. The highway was running more due east right then. The access road jigged to the northwest, about a half mile in."

"Okay…" Frank bit his lip, as pain jabbed at him. He was silent a little while longer, then said. "Do you know what direction we've been heading?"

Joe gazed around, searching for the sun as it settled toward the horizon. "I think we ended up heading southwest. We've been paralleling the highway!" he realized, with a start. "If we head due south, or southeast, we can get to the highway!"

With renewed energy, Joe got to his feet. "I'll be right back," he assured Frank, who nodded and smiled slightly, without opening his eyes. Joe walked back down the path, the way they had come, and a short distance away, found another path that seemed to go in the direction he wanted.

 _But it's so narrow! I'd never get the travois through here…never!_ The trees were close together, and their branches hung low over the path. _There's no room…and this is the direction we have to go!_

Joe returned to Frank's side and told him what he'd found. "Frank, if I go look for another path – one that's wider – it'll take longer. I don't know how much longer…."

Frank's reply was so soft that Joe barely heard it. "Then we'll have to hike out."

"Frank…"

"I can make it, Joe. I can. I will."

Joe dropped his face in his hands again, shaking his head. _I don't like this…not at all! Frank's still bleeding…what if it gets worse? I don't like this!_

Joe felt trapped – as if his choices had all been taken away. Finally, seeing no other possible solution, he stood up and as carefully as possible, lifted Frank to his feet. Frank inhaled sharply, then groaned in pain, but clung to Joe as best he could with his good arm. Joe wrapped his arm about Frank's waist, and leaving the travois behind, they set out along the narrow path. Frank's breath rasped in Joe's ear…more gasps of pain than breathing.

"Frank, let me know if it gets too hard," Joe murmured. "Just tell me, and we'll stop and rest, any time you need to."

The going was marginally faster now, although Joe was half-carrying, half-dragging Frank along the narrow trail. The underbrush pulled at them, snagging their clothing and slowing their progress, and brambles and roots wound across the trail, waiting to trip their stumbling feet. More than once, Frank's sagging weight nearly pulled Joe down, and an unwary step caused Joe to stagger smack into a tree. Both boys picked up more than a few scratches, to add to their misery.

As they struggled through the brush, Joe suddenly felt and heard his stomach growl. _No wonder I'm so bushed!_ he realized. _I haven't had anything to eat since six this morning – Frank either!_

"Frank," he said, pausing to unhook a thorny vine from his jeans. "I'm hungry." _Might as well complain about that as anything else…._

Frank's reply combined a snort of laughter and a whimper of pain. "If you – think that I – have food in my pockets…you're out of luck," he grated. "Who do you – think I am…Chet Morton?"

"No, but I…" Joe simultaneously stopped speaking, and stopped trying to shove his way through the underbrush. "Listen!"

They were both quiet…and the near silence of the forest was broken, by the rushing sound of a car as it sailed along the highway. _Highway noises!_

"We're almost there!" Joe cried. "Just a little further!" Spurred by the sound, buoyed by hope, he plunged ahead, able to go faster on this last bit of adrenaline. He was practically carrying Frank now; Frank's head was lolling limply against Joe's shoulder, and he was slipping in and out of unconsciousness…but it didn't matter, not now. They were nearly there!

Joe made one more push through the undergrowth, and emerged into a small clearing near the highway. The occasional roar and rush of a passing car seemed to fill his ears…and then there was more roar than rush. He stumbled forward several steps, still supporting Frank's drooping form; and then Joe Hardy let his brother slip to the ground, and collapsed beside him…unable to move another step. _Oh, please…someone…please…._

###

Joe heard a car pull to a stop, somewhere near him, and he tried desperately to force his eyes open. He could hear voices murmuring somewhere close to him, but he couldn't make out the words through the roaring in his ears and the throbbing ache that pounded through his head.

"…boys beside the highway…" It was a man's voice, terse with concern. "…have to get them to help."

Joe stared dazedly upward, and glimpsed a man in slacks and a polo shirt bending over him. He tried to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. The stranger gazed down at him, then turned his head and spoke again:

"Lisa! Get over here! I need your help!"

#####

Laura, Fenton, Megan and Vanessa stared at the rental car, momentarily stricken to silence. Then Fenton swore, and smacked his hand against the hood. He re-read the message, and looked around the parking lot. There were people everywhere, getting in and out of cars, but no one in the immediate vicinity, and no one that looked even remotely interested in what the Hardy group was doing. He shook his head – this could have been done hours ago; no clues here!

"We'll just have to get another car; we can't afford to waste time," Laura said urgently, for she was beginning to feel very apprehensive about her sons.

"Let's go in and talk to the concierge, and have him call the police," Fenton said. "I want this car gone over with a fine-tooth comb – and I'll call the rental agency and tell them what happened with the car."

They returned to the hotel, and sought out the concierge's desk.

"Isn't it ironic," Vanessa said with a bitter smile as they walked through the lobby, "that whoever did that to the car told you to get out of town – but then slit the tires, so that it's impossible to leave! What did they expect us to do, flap our arms and fly out, or something?"

"But we haven't done anything!" Megan sputtered. "For days now we've been getting pushed around, and picked on, and harassed…for no reason!" Her lips were set in a tight line, and no dimple was evident now. "Well…we didn't know of a reason, anyway," she added, recalling the video tape.

"Someone thought we knew more than we did," Mr. Hardy commented sagely. He stepped up to the desk and beckoned the concierge, Jorge, over.

"We've got to get another car right away," Laura fretted, her mind still on Frank and Joe and their prolonged absence. She watched anxiously as Fenton began his conversation with Jorge.

Megan put an arm about her shoulders. "We will – I'm sure the concierge can get you another car soon, and then we'll be out of here to look for them."

"What could have happened to them…?" Laura murmured, scarcely hearing Megan's comforting words.

"I'll bet the whole trip to Mount Rose was a set-up…a trap," Vanessa speculated. "But try not to worry, Laura – we'll find the guys, and they'll be okay," she added optimistically.

Laura looked unconvinced. She might stop talking about it, but she wouldn't stop worrying, not until she knew for certain that her boys were safe!

"Mr. Hardy, I'll get you another car, but it will take a while to have one brought from the agency in Reno," Jorge was saying now.

"Why Reno? Can't we get one here in Stateline?" Fenton demanded. "Surely there must be car rental agencies here?"

Shrugging, Jorge picked up the phone and began dialing. "It's an odd time of day to be renting a car," he said as he waited for an answer. "They may not have anything available, but—" He broke off as the rental agency answered, and conversed briefly. But when he hung up, Jorge's face was somber. "They're short on cars and personnel both – can't promise anything right away."

"Could our car be repaired, then?" Fenton demanded.

"Possibly," Jorge conceded. "I'll do my best, Mr. Hardy. Hold on…." He picked up the receiver again, and dialed.

As they huddled near Jorge's desk, waiting impatiently, one of the clerks from the front desk glanced up when he heard Jorge's comment, and then came hurrying over to them.

"Mr. Hardy? Of room 818?"

"Yes…" Fenton looked at him enquiringly.

"We've been waiting for you to come back; you received an important telephone message. Come over to the desk and get it."

Fenton's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Perhaps the boys had called, after all! He hastily went to the front desk and requested the message…and then stared down at it, frowning deeply. For all it consisted of was a telephone number – a strange number – and the words: 'Please call right away; emergency.'

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the unfamiliar number. Two rings later, a man answered the phone.

"That you, Hardy?" The voice was familiar, but Fenton couldn't place it. "Randall Claremont here."

"Yes, it's Fenton Hardy," Fenton confirmed. _Randall Claremont? Why would he be calling me? What's the emergency? "_ What can I do for you?" he went on, cautiously.

"Yeah, Hardy…" Claremont's voice sounded cold and far away, nothing like the friendly man they had met on the _Royal Tahoe_. "I found your boys by the side of the road. They're both in bad shape."

Fenton inhaled sharply, and felt a pang in the pit of his stomach. _Did Claremont_ _find_ _them? Or did he_ _hurt_ _them?_ But before he could respond, Claremont was forging on:

"I've got them in Reno, at Washoe Medical Center. If you want to see them, better get over here fast…before it's too late," he snapped brusquely. "Better hurry, Hardy – you don't want to wait too long!" The receiver was replaced with a **click** , and Fenton found himself listening to dead silence.

"What is it?" Laura, Vanessa and Megan were surrounding him, and Laura's anxious voice cut into his troubled thoughts.

"It was Randall Claremont," he told her. "Lisa and Randall have the boys."

"Have them? What do you mean, they have them?" Laura demanded, lines of concern creasing her forehead.

"We need to get to Reno right away," Fenton stated, without answering her question directly. "That's where Randall said they were – before he hung up on me!" He scowled. He didn't like the way Claremont had disconnected so abruptly. It was almost as if Claremont had been challenging him – challenging him to get to Frank and Joe before something happened to them…or before he did something to them! "What if they're holding them hostage, or something…?" he muttered.

"Hostage!" Laura cried. "NO!…Where in Reno?" she persisted.

Fenton looked at her grimly. "Washoe Medical Center."

"Look, perhaps you're reading too much into this." Laura tried to catch her stampeding emotions before they overwhelmed her. "Maybe Randall was just concerned about the boys…did he say why they took them to the hospital?"

"No…maybe to keep us dangling," Fenton speculated. "Maybe to make us think they're going to save them, when they really aren't. But maybe he's on the level; maybe they're hurt. At any rate, we have to get to Reno right away. We don't have a choice."

As they huddled close, uncertain of their next move, the automatic doors _swooshed_ open, and another familiar figure strode lithely in: Cameron Jacobs, dapper and dashing in a dark blue suit and pale blue shirt. His silver tie was lined with the GTR crest, his blonde hair gleamed in the bright lights of the hotel lobby, and he looked very pleased with himself and his world.

"Ah, Laura – there you are!" Jacobs came up to them, smiling impartially at them all, but with his eyes fastened on Laura. "I just dropped by to make sure you were going to be able to make it to the show this evening…" He paused, evidently noting the worry on all their faces, Laura's in particular. "Is something wrong? You look upset. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Before she quite realized what she was doing, Laura found herself blurting out the whole story: the missing boys, the rental car's slashed tires, Randall Claremont's disturbing telephone call, and the immediate need for them to go to Reno. Cameron Jacobs listened, his green eyes thoughtful.

"I'm so very sorry," he said, when Laura finished speaking. "I understand your worry." He thought a moment or two, and then looked up, a bright smile crossing his handsome features. "I have an idea; I think I can help you! I have a helicopter – I can take you to Reno in that!"

Laura and Fenton looked at each other dubiously for a moment. Laura would have rather had _anyone_ _else_ make such an offer, but the opportunity was there for the taking, and they _had_ to get to Reno! This was a chance too good to pass up.

"All right," Fenton nodded decisively, "Let's go for it." He turned to the concierge. "Jorge, have you got it lined up for the car being fixed?"

"Yes sir, but it will be a couple of hours," Jorge told him.

"That's all right, it isn't such a matter of importance now—and the police need to go over it, anyway—"

"But…Mr. Hardy—" It was Vanessa speaking. "What about us? Megan and me? We want to go…."

"Girls, there isn't room in the helicopter," Cameron Jacobs interposed. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay here."

"We could bring the car to Reno," Megan said softly. "I've got to be with Frank…I have to…."

"Honey, the rules said no one under 21 could drive it," Laura reminded her with regret.

"Mr. Hardy…please…?" That was all Megan said, but she turned to Fenton and gazed at him beseechingly, her long-lashed turquoise eyes seeming to fill her pale face. He hesitated, and glanced at Vanessa…and met the full force of equally-imploring blue-gray eyes fixed on him. Neither girl spoke again, letting Megan's plea hang in the air.

Fenton exhaled sharply, and thrust his hand into his pants pocket. "Screw the rules!" he snapped, and tossed the keys into Megan's trembling hands.

"Thank you!" she breathed, and he gave her a tight grin.

"Just don't drive it off a cliff in your mad rush to get to Reno!" he warned her. "Mount Rose Highway is twisty, and you're not familiar with the road."

"I can give them a map, and directions to the hospital," Jorge, who had been unabashedly listening to this debate, volunteered.

"We'll come as soon as the tires are fixed and the police are done." Vanessa hugged Laura quickly. "It'll be all right, Laura…don't worry!"

"Come on." Cameron Jacobs urged them toward the door, his hand on Laura's elbow. Fenton followed them hastily.

The ride to the Grand Tahoe Resort was swift, in Jacobs' silver Mercedes, and shortly they were parked behind the resort, close to the little private helipad.

"It will take a few minutes to warm things up," Jacobs told them, striding toward the small helicopter. "I'll yell when I'm ready to go." To the Hardys' relief, he was telling the truth; in barely five minutes Jacobs was waving them towards the chopper. They hurried across the helipad and climbed aboard, hastily belting themselves into the seats. Jacobs adjusted the controls and lifted the little aircraft from the ground.

They were just flying over the parking lot, when Fenton, looking down, saw a car sweep into view. A man opened the door and got out – and to Fenton's shock, that man looked, at this distance, like Randall Claremont. _Claremont! What's he…? How did he…?_ Fenton leaned forward, intending to shout to Cameron Jacobs to lower the helicopter once again – but Jacobs, seemingly oblivious, pulled the helicopter up – and they swooped away….


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Many thanks to Cherylann, Max2013, and BMSH for their kind reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy reading the story.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 20

Sitting in the back seat of the car, Joe was barely aware that they were finally coming into the outskirts of Reno. Although the bright neon of the casinos glittered through the car windows in the early evening light, Joe didn't notice. His attention was divided between Frank, and his own exhaustion and misery.

Frank lay sprawled across the back seat, his head resting in Joe's lap, his long legs half on the seat, half on the floor. Most of the time during the ride, he'd been unconscious or asleep – Joe wasn't certain which – but occasionally he stirred and murmured a word or two. Joe leaned back against the seat, one arm cushioning his aching head, the other draped loosely across Frank's chest, his eyes drooping shut. He wanted to sleep too, as Frank was – to give in, to let go. But his body wouldn't let him, and a nagging little voice in the back of his mind kept repeating, over and over, _Stay awake for Frank…stay awake for Frank…stay awake for Frank…._

Frank suddenly jerked, and groaned, and his eyes opened. "Joe?" he whispered, staring up into his brother's haggard face.

"I'm here – just stay put." Joe opened his eyes and attempted a reassuring smile…a very weak attempt. "Don't try to move."

"Where are we?" Frank blinked vaguely at the car's interior.

"We're on our way to the hospital, pal…we're almost there now. So I want you to stay awake; can you do that for me? Stay awake. You keep fading out on me, and I don't want you to do that any more." _Every time you go unconscious, Frank, I'm afraid you're not going to wake up again!_

"But I'm…so tired." Frank's protest was barely audible. "I ache everywhere – and my shoulder feels…like it's on fire! My arm hurts so bad, Joe…."

"I know," Joe commiserated. "But you can't go to sleep yet – not quite yet. Soon…maybe." _Please, God…let it be soon!_

Frank fell silent, but Joe didn't think he had lapsed into unconsciousness again. Joe tried to hold his eyes open, to focus on the people in the front seat. Who were these people, anyway? Joe vaguely remembered telling the man who had rescued them his name, and Frank's, and where they were staying. And the man had promised that he would contact their parents – as soon as they got to the hospital, he'd said.

Joe could hear the couple murmuring in the front seat, but he couldn't decipher what they were saying. Their words seemed to fade in and out, and what few phrases he could catch made no sense. _Maybe it's because my head hurts so much…._ Joe thought.

He felt the car veer slightly to the right, and forced his heavy eyes open. He saw gas stations, and small hotels, and shops, and cars whizzed by on both sides. He wanted to ask their rescuers how much farther it was to the hospital, but instead, he closed his eyes again. He was too tired to make the effort. The most he could manage was to keep repeating, again and again, "stay awake, Frank…just a little longer…stay awake, please." It helped keep him awake, too, to concentrate on Frank. His head hurt so badly…now that he wasn't keeping busy any longer, it pounded with each and every heartbeat. The Tylenol had long since worn off…or perhaps they had never worked. Joe didn't know.

Another turn, sharper this time, jerked Joe back to reality, and he blinked his eyes open once again. "Stay awake, Frank," he murmured automatically. He stared dully out of the car window as another sharp turn to the left rocked him in his seat…and then he realized that the car had stopped moving. He heard one of the car doors open…not his.

"We're almost there, Frank," he whispered. "Almost there…." and closed his eyes wearily.

A few moments later, they seemed to be surrounded by people…medical personnel of all sorts. Joe felt Frank lifted away from him, and heard Frank's moan of anguish at the movement…felt hands assisting him out of the car and then felt himself eased onto the soft surface of a gurney.

"Frank?" he cried, suddenly alarmed. Where was Frank?

"He's right here," a woman's voice said soothingly, just above him. Joe blinked, and tried to focus through the throbbing headache. "He's right next to you." Joe turned his head, and saw Frank on another gurney. There was a jerk, as the brake was released, and then they were moving into the hospital, pushed swiftly along by nurses, interns, doctors…Joe wasn't sure just who, but they seemed to be moving purposefully, and that was reassurance in itself.

He could hear someone – the woman who had helped rescue them – talking to the doctors. Their voices faded in and out, overlapping bewilderingly.

"We found…alongside the Mount Rose Highway…met their parents in Stateline…we'll call them, and tell…what happened."

"…medical permission…?" It was a new voice, breaking in. "…need…stabilized…get him into surgery…."

Joe raised his head slightly. "We're both over 18…" he managed to say. "If Frank – can't sign – I'll do it…." He looked over at Frank's gurney, and saw his brother's eyelashes flutter slightly in response to his name. "Frank…?" he repeated, a little louder. "Frank…we made it…you can go to sleep now...we're here."

#####

Left alone in the lobby of the Caesars Palace Hotel and Casino, Megan and Vanessa decided to make a quick trip up to their room, to change clothes and gather up a few things they might need on a trip to Reno, including bottles of water.

"I'm so grungy," Megan brushed at her shorts sadly. "I feel like all I did today was get pushed down on the street."

Vanessa laughed a little. "Well, you did plenty of that, I admit." She opened the door to their room, and the two girls hurried inside. Even though they realized that it might be an hour or two before they could be on their way, they felt the need to hurry, to try and push time along, to get to Reno as quickly as possible…to get to Frank's and Joe's sides.

"Do you want to get anything to eat?" Vanessa inquired, rummaging through her clothes for a pair of slacks and a clean shirt. "It's dinner time, and we have plenty of time."

"No – I don't feel hungry." Megan shook her head. She was pale and drawn with apprehension. "I don't think I could choke anything down."

"Megan—" Vanessa paused, gnawing nervously on her upper lip. "What do you suppose happened to them?" Vanessa's eyes were haunted by fear. "Do you think they're all right?"

"They've got to be all right!" Megan responded fiercely. "They've got to!"

"I wish we could have gone in the helicopter with Mr. and Mrs. Hardy," Vanessa mourned.

"I do too," Megan said softly. "But at least we'll have the car…when it's fixed, that is." She smiled wistfully. "I'll never forget what Mr. Hardy did."

"You mean 'Screw the rules!'?" Vanessa chuckled. "Wait'll I tell Joe!" Suddenly her face clouded. "What if he's….What if I don't ever get a chance to tell him?" she whispered bleakly.

###

When they were ready, the two girls went back downstairs to the lobby, hoping Jorge had their map ready. Before they could ask, however, they heard themselves being hailed, and turned to see Lieutenant Hunt.

"Miss Bender…Miss Wright." He smiled at them. "We've had a team going over Mr. Hardy's car – ordinarily, we'd impound it, and have it gone over with a fine-tooth comb, but I understand this is an emergency. So far, we haven't come up with anything, unfortunately."

"How long?" Vanessa demanded. "How long until they're done, and the tires replaced?"

"Not too much longer, I hope." The lieutenant tried to sound reassuring. "Although I suppose I might bend a rule or two, and have someone take you two to Reno, so you wouldn't have to wait."

Megan and Vanessa exchanged hopeful glances, but then Megan shook her head regretfully.

"No – we'd better wait and take that one. Mr. Hardy might need a car, in Reno."

"I'll let you know when our team's done," Hunt prepared to return to his men in the parking lot. "I believe the repair people can have the tires replaced very shortly, once we're through."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Vanessa murmured. She and Megan watched him depart, and then sank into chairs near Jorge's desk. All they could do now was wait….

After some time, Vanessa broke the silence. "I can't believe all this happened just because of a picture Frank probably doesn't even realize he took!"

"Things always start small, with the Hardys," Megan commented. "It's always something completely inconsequential, and then…."

"I know," Vanessa agreed. "Who would have thought it would lead to this?" She thought about it a few moments, then added: "But – you know something? I wouldn't trade them in for anyone – not even with all the danger, I wouldn't."

"No, of course not." Megan managed an almost-normal smile, its sparkle only slightly quenched. "I wouldn't change anything…. But I think I'd like to know more about the people who called, and said they'd found them – the Claremonts. They seem to be helping, but…"

"But they're always around – popping up everywhere," Vanessa concurred. "Things are more mysterious than I'd thought. I mean, we thought it was a case of thefts – and Mr. and Mrs. Hardy thought it was a case of malicious food poisoning. But then we've got a guy killed in the woods behind the hotel, and then this thing with Frank and Joe and the camera…"

"Everyone seemed to be after Frank's camera," Megan mused. "It's like…" her voice slowed down, to match her swirling thoughts. "It's like people were stealing things to hide the fact that they really wanted Frank's camera…and only Frank's." She raised her head and stared at Vanessa. "They wanted only Frank's…." she repeated. "Van, is that possible?"

"Oh my…" Vanessa whispered. "I hadn't thought of that angle…but if it's true – oh Megan, do you suppose that could be how it all connected? Why—?"

"Excuse me," Jorge's voice interrupted their conversation, making both girls jump in surprise. "I have marked a map for you. See? The route to Reno is marked in yellow highlighter – and I've written out instructions on how to find Washoe Medical Center, once you reach Reno."

"Thank you, Jorge!" Megan took the map, and smiled at the concierge gratefully.

"Please note, the road is winding and twisty," Jorge warned them. "And it will be dark by the time you're on your way, I'm afraid. You'll have to be very alert and watchful, especially if you see the deer crossing signs. The mountains are full of deer, and they don't look before they jump out into headlights. They can mess up your car something fierce!"

"Oh no…" Megan, already pale, turned a shade or two whiter. The thought of hitting a deer spooked her considerably.

"Don't worry, Megan," Vanessa said staunchly. "We'll make it just fine. We can do anything, right?" She grinned encouragingly at the little redhead, who managed a tentative smile in return.

###

After what seemed like forever to the two apprehensively waiting girls, Lieutenant Hunt returned to the lobby and pronounced the rental car 'clean' as far as clues to the vandalism went, and added that a mechanic was currently replacing the tires.

"Are you two sure you can make it to Reno all right? I could assign an officer to drive you two over there," he suggested, looking from Vanessa to Megan.

Both girls shook their heads. They didn't even need to look at each other to know the answer to this.

"No, we'll be fine," Megan smiled at him. "We don't know how long we'll be there, and we wouldn't want to tie up one of your officers too long. But we do appreciate the offer."

"Well, if you're sure…." Lieutenant Hunt said. "I'll walk you to the car, if you're ready to leave."

They bid goodbye to Jorge, picked up their tote bags, and walked to the parking lot, where Lieutenant Hunt saw them to their newly-repaired car, and waved goodbye to them as he headed for his police cruiser.

###

After a few minutes to become accustomed to where all the various things were located in this unfamiliar vehicle, they headed the big car in the direction of Reno, following the road that wound itself around the edge of Lake Tahoe. The lights of the casinos shimmered and glittered, and seemed to shine like brightly-colored beacons in the evening's growing darkness.

Vanessa found a radio station playing popular music, and they drove along comfortably listening to it, not making conversation. For now, it was enough to know that they were at last on their way.

Megan had assumed the responsibility for driving. She was the older of the two, after all, she reasoned, and as such, should be the one to get them to Reno in one piece. Once they left the bright lights of Stateline, the road was dark, winding between tall trees which lined either side of the highway. Megan concentrated hard, keeping her speed down despite the _Hurry! Hurry!_ pounding in her brain, remembering Jorge's warnings about the deer. She wouldn't have minded _seeing_ some deer, but she certainly didn't want one jumping out in front of her!

There were other cars on the road, and this helped, making them feel less isolated on their journey; other people, going to Reno or returning. Everyday errands, or tourist trips – the sorts of things they themselves had been doing, only a day or so before….

"Van, do you think the boys are okay?" Megan broke the silence abruptly, unable to keep her tumultuous thoughts to herself any longer. She needed reassurance, and she needed it badly. Visions of Frank lying broken and battered in a hospital bed kept filling her mind.

"They have to be." Vanessa's voice was firmly optimistic. "But I do wish that someone would call and tell us." She paused, suddenly searching in her tote bag. "Whew! For a minute I thought I might have forgotten to put my phone in!"

"You have Mr. Hardy's cell number, don't you? Do you want to—" Megan broke off her question, for she suddenly spotted what seemed to be two glowing lights by the side of the road – and without warning, a deer bounded out onto the highway in front of the car!

#####

Cameron Jacobs was cheeky enough to land on the helipad of Reno's Washoe Medical Center, regardless of the regulations he broke, doing it. Fenton hadn't bothered to argue the point with the man – after all, he had gotten them to Reno much faster than the fiasco of dealing with their damaged rental car would have allowed!

Laura was taking great care to keep Fenton between herself and the overly familiar Jacobs, who seemed to have no qualms about hitting on a married woman in front of her husband. But Fenton knew the warning signs – Laura was becoming exceptionally annoyed, and this was not a state any intelligent man wanted Laura Hardy to be in. _If Cameron Jacobs knows what's good for him, he'll find something else to do for a bit!_ Fenton thought, with an inward chuckle. _Or he's going to find himself minus some fingers…or something else a little more vital…._

Descending quickly from the helipad, the Hardys swept into the emergency room and hurried to the receptionist at the main desk. They identified themselves, and asked for information regarding their children.

"The doctor has been waiting to talk to you," the receptionist told them. "Take the elevator up to the 5th floor – the trauma ward – and ask for Dr. Ashton. The elevators are right around that corner." She pointed, and smiled at them encouragingly.

When Laura and Fenton got off the elevator on Floor 5, they hurried to the nurse's station and asked for Dr. Ashton, but were informed that he was with another patient at the moment.

"I can give you some information, though," one of the nurses offered. She smiled, and led the way to the waiting room. "Why don't you come and sit down for a minute?"

Laura and Fenton followed her, feeling more and more apprehensive. They seated themselves stiffly on a couch, and declined the offer of coffee.

"The boys were brought in nearly two hours ago," the nurse said. "The older one, with dark hair, was in much the worse shape."

"What was wrong with him?" Laura demanded. "How was he hurt?"

"He had several injuries," the nurse, who had brown hair and twinkling blue eyes in a sweet face, and whose name tag read **Bonnie Freitag** , replied. She read off a chart that she held in her lap. "A foreign object puncturing his left shoulder – it was a stick, by the way, what looked like a piece of a pine branch – a multiple fracture of his left arm, three bruised but not cracked ribs, blood loss from the shoulder wound, a concussion, several abrasions and moderately-severe bruises, and two cuts that required stitches."

Laura and Fenton both gasped at the extent of Frank's injuries, and Laura felt her eyes fill with tears at the thought of her firstborn suffering all these things.

"He was stabilized a short while ago," Ms. Freitag continued, "and taken to surgery. He's currently there; they'll remove the stick and set his arm, and then he'll be in recovery – and you can see him," she added, smiling encouragingly at the Hardys.

"What about Joe?" Fenton's voice was harsh with tension.

"The younger one, the blonde?" Ms. Freitag paused, collecting her thoughts. She obviously didn't have Joe's chart handy. "He sustained a concussion, multiple scratches, bruises, and abrasions, and muscle strain, which he evidently acquired while dragging his older brother through three-quarters of a mile of brush, after they were injured. He was also suffering from dehydration and exhaustion, and had a small cut on his face that required five stitches, but I don't believe it will leave a scar."

Again, the encouraging smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, they both will be fine, I'm sure of that. Frank was half-awake, and Joe was conscious when they were admitted, and his main focus was making sure that Frank was taken care of. Only when he was convinced that his brother was in good hands and was going to be all right, did he finally relax. He was given a light sedative, just to be sure he sleeps comfortably, and he's been admitted; he's in a room on this floor. And Frank will be out of surgery fairly soon, I believe."

"Are the people who brought them in around?" Fenton asked.

"I haven't seen them," the nurse admitted. "But then, I came on duty after the doctor was already looking the boys over."

"Can we see Joe?" Laura's voice quavered.

"Of course. Come along." Bonnie Freitag led the way down the corridor. Fenton and Laura followed in her wake, tightly clasping each other's hands.

Joe was sleeping partly on his side, one arm curled under his cheek, despite the two pillows beneath his head. He had been cleaned up, and was clad in a hospital gown; and a bandage on his face concealed the stitches.

"Joe hates hospital gowns," Laura whispered. "We should have gotten him some clothes before we left the hotel." She sank into the chair beside the bed

"Honey, we didn't have time," Fenton reminded her. "We'll get him some clothes before he has to go home; don't worry." He gazed down at his younger son somberly. "What I'd like to know is: what happened to them? How were they hurt?" He turned to Ms. Freitag. "Do you know?"

"No," she admitted. "As I said, I wasn't on duty when they were first brought in. Neither of them was very coherent just then – and no one's mentioned how they were injured, to me. The scratches and abrasions seem to indicate they'd gone through bushes or trees. I'm sure the doctor knows more about it." She smiled again, another professionally encouraging smile. "Dr. Ashton should be with you shortly." She patted Laura's shoulder, and left the room. Fenton drew up a second chair by his son's bedside, and the Hardys sat in silence, watching Joe sleep.

###

Perhaps ten minutes later the door was pushed open, and a slightly-built man with thick dark hair and a youthful face entered. "Mr. and Mrs. Hardy? I'm Dr. Ashton, the admitting physician." He extended his hand as Fenton rose to his feet, but gestured for Laura to stay seated. "I initially treated both boys; of course, Frank's injuries required the services of Dr. Singh, the surgeon on call."

"Can you tell us how it happened?" Fenton demanded yet again. "What caused the injuries?"

"From what I understood from Joe," Dr. Ashton said, "they were caught in a rockslide on the mountain. Apparently Joe essentially carried the older boy, Frank, out of the woods on his own. And let me assure you, they both are going to be all right. Joe can probably be released as early as tomorrow, assuming he's feeling up to it. Frank will have to stay two or three days, depending on how his surgery goes. He'll be wearing a cast for a while, though." the doctor added.

Both the Hardys smiled in relief at hearing this pronouncement, and Laura settled back in her chair, relaxing just a bit. Dr. Ashton checked Joe, then left, telling them that they'd be notified as soon as Frank was out of surgery.

"Honey, this room's pretty small." Fenton leaned over Laura, rubbing her shoulders gently. "Why don't I let you stay here with Joe, and I'll go out to the waiting room for a bit, and then I'll see Frank as soon as he's in recovery."

"All right." Laura leaned into the massage gratefully, and Fenton kissed her cheek before departing.

In the deserted waiting room, Fenton got himself a cup of coffee, and then paced the floor, sipping it as he walked back and forth. _What's going on, anyway? Where are the Claremonts? Why aren't they here? Why have they disappeared? If they are the ones who caused this, then why did they bring Frank and Joe to the hospital? Was it just to divert suspicion from themselves?_ Fenton didn't doubt that motive at all.

He sat down and took a gulp of the coffee. He was frustrated beyond belief at his lack of answers, and he felt his teeth clenching harder and harder. _Gotta stop that before I break a molar,_ he cautioned himself, consciously relaxing, but almost immediately felt his jaw tighten again. _If I wasn't so tired, I could put things together and figure it out…._ He shifted uncomfortably. _God, but my back's killing me…that helicopter seat wasn't the most comfortable in the world, that's for sure! It hit me in all the bruised spots._

Fenton got to his feet and discarded the coffee cup, deciding to go to the nurses' station and inquire whether Frank was out of surgery yet. As he reached the door he paused, hearing a voice in the hallway. He knew that voice: Randall Claremont's! He seemed to be talking to someone…probably Lisa, Fenton concluded…and what he was saying made Fenton's blood run cold!

"We're going to have to do something about that boy."


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, all who left commentary. You're so appreciated!

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 21

Fenton Hardy clenched his fists tightly against his sides, and forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. He didn't dare lunge out into the hall and confront the Claremonts the way he desired, but oh, how he yearned to! _Come on, calm down, get a grip_ ….he told himself. He couldn't believe what he had just overheard. How could Randall Claremont have the audacity to announce to Lisa that something was going to have to be done about Frank? Well, Randall hadn't mentioned Frank by name, but who _else_ could he have meant? It was Frank whom someone had been trying to kill, all along!

When he thought he could trust his temper, Fenton looked out into the hallway, and saw Lisa and Randall Claremont standing together, near the pay phone next to the waiting room. Neither of them was talking on the phone, but they were leaning against the wall beside it, and seemed to be carrying on a low-toned conversation.

Not wishing to speak to them, and hoping he might hear something else, Fenton started to duck back into the waiting room, but as he stepped back, he bumped into a garbage can, and knocked it into the beverage machine. The resultant clatter made both the Claremonts turn towards him.

"Hardy!" Randall Claremont smiled, his eyes lighting behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "Glad you made it! Have you talked to the doctor yet?"

Fenton nodded, still not trusting himself to speak. He couldn't lash out in anger, not yet. What he _wanted_ to do was throw Randall Claremont against the wall and demand to know what he meant by the comment about "doing something about the boy." But what if he was mistaken? There was still that nagging sense of doubt, that feeling that something didn't quite add up. Even hearing Claremont voice the threat hadn't cleared up the confusion. _What am I doing? Maybe if I talk to them, I can get them to slip, to admit to something! That's my best bet. If I'm confrontational with them, they'll just leave, tell me I'm ungrateful for what they did, and I'll never find out anything…._ Fenton had been an investigator long enough to know that sometimes you learned more with sugar than with vinegar.

"Fenton, are you all right?" It was Lisa, her voice full of concern.

Then Fenton realized he was clutching the garbage can he had picked up, so tightly that his knuckles were white. He stared at the couple in front of him, trying to make sense of them and their actions. They could be behind the thefts…behind the attempts on Frank's life…even behind the murder in Stateline. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, they had brought the boys to the hospital, instead of leaving them in the woods to die…or finishing them off!

 _Why bring Frank back here instead of killing him?_

"I think you'd better sit down, man," Randall Claremont said brusquely. He stepped forward and took Fenton's arm, and led him back into the waiting room, where he gently forced him into a chair. "You look shell-shocked. This the first time your boys have been hurt? They'll be all right; the doctor told us that before we went to eat….Fenton, have you eaten anything recently?" he added, in what sounded like genuine concern.

Fenton shook his head numbly. "No…" he admitted. "No, I haven't had time – haven't even thought about it." He stared at the floor a few seconds longer, then looked up at the hovering Claremonts. "Where – how – did you find them?"

"We were on our way back to Tahoe," Randall said, "when we saw these two young men lying beside the road. We stopped, saw how bad they looked, loaded them in the car, and turned around and headed back here, to the hospital. The younger one, the blonde, was awake enough to tell us their names, and where they were staying. I figured there couldn't be more than one group of Hardys staying in Stateline with sons named Frank and Joe, so I took a chance when we got here, and called you." He paused, and glanced at his watch. "How did you get here so fast?"

"We were given a ride by Cameron Jacobs, in his private helicopter," Fenton explained. _I wonder where Jacobs has got to?_ he wondered idly. _Oh well, I suppose he had business of his own to take care of. I'll be eternally grateful to him for getting us here so quickly, but I'd be just as glad if he went on back to Tahoe now._ Fenton smiled grimly. He knew exactly why he felt that way about Cameron Jacobs! The fact that Jacobs was so obviously attracted to Laura – and was willing to act on his attraction – bothered him a good deal. Fenton didn't want to seem ungrateful, but he wished that Cameron Jacobs would go far, far away from Reno – perhaps Dallas, Texas, might be far enough!

"Fenton…" It was Lisa speaking again. "Would you like me to get you something to eat? And is Laura with Joe?"

He thought about that for a bit, and finally nodded. "Yes, thanks." _I could use some food,_ he admitted to himself. _And if I don't have to go get it myself, I'd accept it._ "And yes, Laura's in Joe's room."

"I'll get you both some sandwiches, then, and bring them to Joe's room," Lisa told him, and left the waiting room.

Randall Claremont, evidently realizing that Fenton didn't feel like talking, excused himself also, saying that he had a few more phone calls to make, since his trip back home had been delayed. Left alone, Fenton got another cup of coffee from the machine, and went back down the hall to Joe's room, intending to spend a few more minutes with his younger son, and wait for Lisa's sandwiches.

He stopped before entering, for he saw Laura sitting close beside Joe's bed, leaning forward on it. Fenton smiled, and leaned against the door, watching. Joe was completely unaware of his mother's presence, but still, she held his free hand clasped in her own, and was leaning over it, eyes closed.

Softly, Fenton stepped into the room, and laid a hand gently on Laura's shoulder. Somehow, she must have sensed his presence, for she didn't startle, she merely lifted her hand to cover his for a moment, then turned to him, opening her eyes. He handed her the cup of coffee he had brought her.

Someone at the door cleared his throat, and Cameron Jacobs walked in, carrying two cups of coffee. One had clearly been sampled, for there was a brown stain on the plastic lid. He was extending the other towards Laura when he became aware that she already was holding one.

"Mr. Hardy, I would have brought you a cup of coffee, but you weren't here the last time I was," Jacobs said smoothly. He didn't offer the extra cup.

Fenton returned Jacobs' cool gaze with an equally cool one of his own. After all, it was _his_ hand Laura was holding, not Jacobs'!

"Thank you again for getting us here, Mr. Jacobs," he said aloud. _I am_ _so_ _ready to be rid of you!_ He didn't wish to seem rude, not after what Jacobs had done for them, but he was getting almighty tired of the resort owner's attitude…and the way he kept coming on to Laura. "I'm sure it's getting late…?"

"Oh, I'm a night owl," Jacobs said easily. "This isn't late for me at all! I want to make sure your boys are all right." He smiled charmingly at Laura, but she didn't return it.

"We're very grateful," Laura said quietly. "But really, we can't keep you here any longer."

Eventually, Cameron Jacobs took the hint and said he had to go. "I can't keep the helicopter on the landing pad any longer, I'm afraid – so if you don't need me any more tonight, I should be getting back to Tahoe. I still have business to take care of tonight…but I was more than happy to be of service."

Fenton extended his hand. "Thank you again."

Jacobs shook the detective's hand briefly, then bent over Laura's proffered hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. Fenton saw her lips tighten, but she didn't say anything, other than 'goodbye.'

"I'll walk you out," Fenton offered, and accompanied Jacobs to the helipad. He stood and watched as the man climbed into the chopper, fired up the engine, and finally flew away.

Fenton walked back to the fifth floor, and was heading down the hall to Joe's room when a nurse approached and asked his name. When informed as to who he was, she took him into the waiting room.

"Mr. Hardy, I just came out of surgery with Dr. Singh. Your son Frank has been taken to Recovery. He's still under the anesthetic he was given, but everything went well. Dr. Singh should be in to talk to you in just a few minutes." She smiled. "Your son should be just fine, Mr. Hardy," she concluded, and left the room.

Fenton sank into the nearest chair, feeling the tension drain from his shoulders as he sagged back…and then he leaned forward, and put his face in his hands.

#####

Megan stamped on the gas pedal and jerked the steering wheel hard to the left, to avoid the deer which was standing frozen in their headlights. She managed not to hit the creature, and somehow, thanks to the big car's ease of handling, also managed to keep the vehicle on the road. Shakily, she steered back into her own lane, breathing hard and terrified to her very core.

 _That was so close! I almost hit that deer!_ Megan was panting with near-panic reaction, but she kept telling herself to calm down. _We've got to get to Reno…we've got to get there without wrecking the car!_ She felt Vanessa's hand cover hers on the steering wheel, patting her gently, reassuring her that they were okay.

"Good job, Meggie, good one," the younger girl murmured soothingly.

"Th-thank goodness there wasn't anything coming the other way!" Megan whispered. She settled herself back into the driver's seat and tried to relax a little. _All right, we're going to make it there alive! All we have to do is get off this highway and onto 395 North, and we'll be fine._ Surely there wouldn't be deer on the road in the city – that would be _too_ unbelievable!

Both girls were operating on sheer nerve now – they had had a very long, stressful day, starting with the boys' departure early that morning…and they had no idea when it was going to end. On the East coast, it was already getting late, crowding their bedtime. But neither Vanessa nor Megan was about to give up. As tired as they were, both of them realized that if they wanted to see Frank and Joe that night, they needed to get to their destination. They had to keep going.

Megan kept driving, and after what seemed an eternity of winding mountain roads bordered by tall evergreen trees, they reached the end of the highway and turned north on Virginia Street.

"We're getting close," Vanessa murmured. She pulled out the written instructions Jorge had given them, and began reading them in the soft glow of the little light on her vanity mirror. "North on Virginia…past the Meadowood Mall, past the Atlantic, past the Peppermill…" She paused, ticking off the landmarks as Megan negotiated the traffic, for even at this time of night, Reno was busy living up to its nickname. "Now we come to a big intersection at Virginia and Plumb, by Park Lane Mall…yeah, there it is….At the next light, take Wells to the left, then go till you reach Mills and take a right….Hospital should be on the left in three or four blocks."

Finally, they pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Megan turned off the motor. For just a few seconds they sat there, weak with relief at their safe arrival – and then they were piling out of the car, hastily locking it, and rushing into the Washoe Medical Center, tired and anxious.

They paused at the front desk and inquired for either Joe or Frank Hardy. The receptionist took her time about looking up the information, and Megan suddenly found words tumbling from her mouth.

"Please, can't you hurry? Their parents are here too, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy; they came by helicopter, and we drove their car all the way from Stateline in the dark, and we nearly hit a deer, and…and…" She broke off, appalled at herself, and felt Vanessa encircle her with an encouraging squeeze. "I'm...excuse me."

The receptionist gave them an understanding smile. "Fifth floor, trauma," she said, and got to her feet. "Come over here, the elevators are right around this corner."

When they reached the fifth floor, Megan and Vanessa rushed immediately to the waiting area, hoping to find Laura and Fenton, but it was empty. They hurried back to the nurses' station, and asked again for Frank or Joe Hardy.

"Well, Joe's in 592," one of the nurses told them, checking her computer screen. "But Frank's still in Recovery."

"Recovery?" Vanessa asked. "What do you mean by that? What happened to him?"

"You'd better talk to their parents, honey," the nurse advised. "I'm not supposed to give out that sort of information to non-family members."

Now more worried than ever, the girls hurried down the corridor to room 592, where they found Fenton, watching over the sleeping Joe. They tiptoed in, and Vanessa gasped at the sight of her bruised and bandaged boyfriend, who looked decidedly fragile at the moment.

Fenton found himself more relieved than he'd realized, when Megan and Vanessa entered the room. Since some of his fears about the boys had been relieved, he'd been harboring visions of the girls slamming into a tree on the mountainous highway, having car trouble and being stranded alone in the dark…yes, it was definitely a relief to see them there, safe and sound! In a voice just above a whisper, he explained what had happened to the boys, and concluded by telling Megan where she might find Frank. With a gulp, she rushed from the room, in search of Recovery, while Vanessa settled down in a chair at Joe's bedside, curling her fingers gently around his lax hand.

Megan found the correct room without difficulty, and when she walked in, she saw Laura seated near the bed. The elder woman glanced up, then got to her feet and hugged Megan warmly.

"I'm so glad you made it safely!" she whispered.

Megan's eyes were fixed on the bed's occupant, and a horrified expression filled them as she looked at Frank. Three different IVs were running into his right arm and the back of his hand. His left shoulder was heavily bandaged, and the rest of his left arm was encased in a plaster cast. Monitors of some sort were attached to him, and he was evidently receiving oxygen or something, through prongs inserted in his nose. His face and what she could see of his torso seemed to be bruised and cut and scraped and scratched…

"Oh Laura…" she breathed. "He's…is he…?"

"Don't worry, honey!" Mrs. Hardy said reassuringly. "It looks worse than it is, with all the bruises and scrapes. He's going to be all right, really."

She guided Megan to the chair beside the bed, and patted her shoulder. "I'll leave you alone for a minute," she murmured, and left the room.

Megan instinctively reached for Frank's hand – and then stopped, balked by the IV apparatus. Very gently, she entwined her fingers into his, and then leaned forward and let her copper-curled head rest on the pillow next to Frank's pale, bruised face. "I love you, darling," she whispered. "I'm here…and I love you."

All too soon, a nurse arrived to check Frank's vitals again. Megan sat up guiltily, but the nurse just smiled at her.

"He's doing fine," she told Megan. "He's pretty much out of the anesthesia now, but of course he's quite heavily sedated. But everything looks good."

As the nurse left, Fenton entered, followed by Laura. "Megan, why don't you join Vanessa for a little while," he suggested. "She's in the waiting room. I've made some arrangements at a nearby hotel so we can all get some sleep – Laura, don't argue!" he broke off to say. "Both the kids are out like lights; they won't even know we're gone, and all of us are beyond exhausted at this point." He smiled at his wife and Megan. "Just give us a chance to say goodnight to Frank, Megan, and then we'll be on our way."

#####

The next morning found the Hardy parents, with Megan and Vanessa accompanying them, returning to the hospital, anxious to see how Frank and Joe had fared through the night. When they arrived, they discovered that Joe had been moved to a different room, this one a double – and the occupant of the other bed was Frank! He was sleeping soundly, and he looked vastly improved from the night before; there was more color in his face, and he was no longer connected to multiple monitors, but he was still receiving IV fluids.

Joe, however, was awake. He was lying back on the pillows with his eyes half-closed, a scarcely-touched breakfast on a tray still in front of him. When he heard people arriving, Joe opened his eyes, and smiled wanly at his family.

"Didn't mean to yank you all out of Tahoe," he murmured, "But I'm really glad you're here!" He blinked. "When did you get here? I must've slept through it…."

"Don't worry about it," his father said. "We were here last night."

"How are you feeling, honey?" Laura asked, as Vanessa moved to his side to take his hand. Megan gave Joe a quick smile, but immediately stepped over to Frank's bedside, and curled her hand around his.

"Not real great," Joe admitted. "My head still hurts a lot…and I was seeing double when I woke up. Dr. Ashton seems kind of concerned that the concussion may be worse than they thought – but since I didn't suffer any complications during the night, it won't set me back too much." He attempted a grin, wincing as the movement tugged the stitched cut on his cheek. "Besides, it's probably just from trying to convince my overly stubborn brother that I wasn't going to leave him out in the woods by himself!" he tried to joke.

Everyone chuckled obligingly, and Joe looked satisfied. His reputation as a mood-lightener was still intact. Now, he looked imploringly at his mother. "Mom, is there any way you can get me something to eat? The food here is worse than that stuff I had at summer camp the year I was twelve!"

Laura laughed, and laid a light kiss on his forehead. "I'll see what I can do," she half-promised.

Joe sighed, his smile fading. "Actually, I'm not very hungry. Leftover nausea from the concussion, the doctor said. I hope it goes away pretty soon." He looked over at the other bed, where Megan still kept her quiet vigil, holding Frank's hand. "He woke up earlier, just for a little bit. The doctor checked him over, and said he's recovering just fine, but they want to keep him really quiet, yet. But he should be awake later."

Fenton was about to question Joe about the particulars of what had happened to them on Mount Rose, when the sounds of scuffling movement came from the hallway. He quickly stepped to the door, and looked out. To his surprise, he saw a man running away, down the hallway towards the elevators. The fleeing man bumped into a nurse, knocking a tray from her hands, and as he did so, Fenton caught a glimpse of his face. To his utter shock and horror, he realized it was the man who had attacked Megan the day before!


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Many thanks to Max2013, Cherylann and BMSH for the feedback.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 22

Fenton took off down the hall after the running man. _Didn't I just do this yesterday? What is going on here? I can't believe this is happening – over, and over, and over…._ Realizing that his quarry had caught an elevator, Fenton headed for the stairs. He had no way of knowing which floor might be the man's destination, but now determination had set in; he was going to find this guy and _nail_ him!

Fenton surmised that the escaping man probably wouldn't have gone _up_ , so he headed down the flights of stairs, stopping at each floor just long enough to glance out and see if he could spot the elusive prey running down the long hospital corridors. He reached the first floor without gaining sight of him, however, and was forced to admit defeat. Fenton leaned against the wall, and gritted his teeth in frustration, shaking his head. What in the world was that man doing in the hospital…? And how had he even known they were here?

Glumly, Fenton took the elevator back to the fifth floor, and returned to the boys' room, where he found his family and the two girls, all waiting for an explanation.

"I know this sounds nuts, but I swear, I just saw the guy who knocked Megan down yesterday; the one who keeps trying to get Frank's camera!" Fenton explained.

Megan's azure eyes went wide as she took in this fact; somehow she had felt much safer here in Reno, but evidently that was a false sense of security.

"What?" Joe demanded, struggling to sit up. "What's this about somebody hurting Megan again?" A grim scowl creased his face. Frank wasn't able to protect her right now, therefore the job fell to _him_!

Fenton quickly filled Joe in on the previous day's events in Stateline. Joe listened with perturbation; they seemed to be set upon no matter where they were!

"Now, son…if you're feeling up to it, and can remember, how about telling us what happened to you and Frank?" Fenton requested, when he finished.

Slowly dredging the facts from his memory, Joe told of the motorcycle ride, the rockslide, the injuries he and Frank had sustained, and his efforts to get Frank to help. His parents and the girls listened intently, expressions of shock and dismay and horror – and occasional laughter – flitting across their faces.

"Frank's too stubborn – way too stubborn," Joe stated with finality. "I didn't want him to try to walk, but he kept saying he could do it, and trying, even when I tried to stop him. I was scared he'd hurt himself worse…I know that the last time, there wasn't any other way, but…I'm so sorry…." Joe's voice faded into a murmur, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at his family. He was afraid to face his mother's eyes, the possibly accusing stare of his father, or see the shock which had drained Megan's face of all color. Guilt suffused his whole being. _Why couldn't I have gotten him out faster? Found an easier way? What if they're angry with me…?_

"Joe – son." Fenton's voice was gentle in the extreme. "You did wonderfully well. You have nothing at all to be sorry about. You and Frank made it out of there alive, and that's what counts. You did good, Joe – real good."

Joe opened his eyes and glanced around – and met nothing but love and understanding smiles in return. He managed a crooked grin of his own. "Thanks, Dad….Oh—" he suddenly remembered something. "I told the guy who found us – I told him about the man in the woods with the rifle, and he said he'd call the police in Tahoe and see if he was still there. Did he?"

"What? What man with a rifle?" Fenton nearly barked the question. Joe hadn't recalled this part of the story before.

"The one who dumped the rocks on us," Joe said simply. "He tried to kill Frank, later – was going to shoot him, but Frank threw a rock at him…I don't know how he did it! I guess I forgot to mention him before, huh? He followed us, though, after I knocked him out, and tried again. That time I tied him up and left him. I couldn't let him try to attack us again, could I? Anyway, did they capture him?"

Fenton shook his head in bewilderment. Was there no end to this crazy situation? "I don't know, son," he admitted. "I'll try to find out, when I talk to Lieutenant Hunt again."

"Do you think you'll talk to him today?" Laura asked. "Actually…what are we going to do today?"

As they were about to start discussing this vital subject, Dr. Ashton arrived, intending to re-examine Joe. He read through Joe's chart, noting the vitals taken by the night nurse, and then shooed everyone from the room, ignoring the pleading looks from Megan as she reluctantly released Frank's hand.

Laura, Fenton, and the girls trailed into the waiting room, and continued the discussion.

"I'm staying here today," Laura stated. "Even if they are grown up, Frank and Joe shouldn't have to stay here all alone. Frank may sleep most of the time, but Joe's going to be awake, and might want some company." She smiled at Vanessa and Megan. "Why don't you girls go back to Stateline with Fenton, and pick up some clothes for the boys?"

"I want to stay until Frank wakes up – please, can't I?" Megan beseeched. "I – please…." She broke off, and pressed her lips tightly together, resolving to stop begging for favors.

"You most certainly can," Fenton answered, before Laura could frame a reply. "If I know Frank, he'll be as anxious to see you as you are to talk to him."

At that moment, Dr. Ashton popped his head into the waiting room. "All finished!" he announced with a smile. "Joe's doing better, but I'd still like to keep him one more day, until I'm sure the concussion symptoms have subsided. I'm fairly sure he can be released tomorrow."

"That's good news!" Fenton answered.

"Dr. Singh will be dropping in to check Frank later today," the physician continued. "and I expect Frank to be waking up in an hour or so." He grinned. "So go cheer Joe up – he didn't like hearing he had to stay another day!" he said, and disappeared.

Back to the boys' room they trooped. Vanessa nudged Megan as they walked down the hospital corridor. "I'm beginning to feel like a kindergarten class, following the grownups back and forth," she hissed in her friend's ear. Megan choked, and began to giggle…the first time Megan's bubbling, contagious giggle had sounded in two days. Vanessa laughed too, and Fenton and Laura glanced over their shoulders, wondering what had set the girls off!

Joe was looking a little more alert now, and he smiled happily at Vanessa as she leaned against his bed and took his hand. Laura explained to him that they were considering splitting the party up for the day, with Vanessa and Fenton returning to Stateline, and she and Megan remaining in Reno.

"That sounds like a good idea," Joe nodded. "It's okay, Van – why don't you go with Dad? Pick me out something good to wear. It's not like you'll be gone forever, is it?"

"All right, all right," Vanessa laughed. "I'll bring you a surprise." _Like that new t-shirt I bought you – just yesterday? It seems like weeks ago!_ She leaned over and kissed him lightly. "Try not to drive the doctors and nurses – and your mother – crazy, huh?"

Fenton made the rounds: kissing Laura goodbye, gently smoothing the blanket over the slumbering Frank, giving Megan a quick, affectionate hug, and squeezing and patting Joe's shoulder. "We'll be back this afternoon," he told his wife. "Keep an eye out for that man I saw! I could have been wrong; it might be someone who just resembles him, but just in case, it might be better not to leave Frank alone. Or if you do, make sure there's a nurse or doctor in here with him."

Both Laura and Megan nodded soberly, and Joe spoke up. "Dad, I'll be here with him!"

"You might not be – maybe they'll let you get out of bed," Vanessa reminded him, and he nodded, conceding the point.

"We'll be careful," Laura promised, and Fenton and Vanessa took their leave.

Megan made herself comfortable in a chair beside Frank, and took a magazine from her tote bag. It unsettled her to look at his battered face too much, and she knew if he had any notion she had sat and gazed at him while he was asleep, Frank would be horribly abashed. So sitting there and reading seemed like a good compromise. She'd know immediately if he stirred.

"What would you like to do?" Laura was asking Joe, who had lain back again, looking both bored and uncomfortable.

"I don't know…" Joe groused. "I hate hospitals!"

Laura looked at him patiently. "You've always made an absolutely horrible patient, too," she commented. "Even when you were younger."

He gave her a shamefaced glance. "Sorry. It's just that – it makes me stir-crazy, having to sit around and wait to heal."

It was true. There was too much energy and impatience bottled up inside Joe for him to be willing to lie quietly, or sit still. He always wanted to be on the move, doing something. It was the quality that made him so good at sports, and drove him to the winner's circle so often…but it made for considerable anguish of spirit, when he was confined to a hospital bed!

"Be that as it may," Laura reminded him, "You have to stay quiet, or your doctor is going to make you stay here two days, instead of one. So try to think of something you could tolerate doing."

Joe thought about it. "If there's a _Sports Illustrated_ around anywhere, I wouldn't mind being read to," he hinted, finally. "I can't read it myself, it makes my head ache too much."

Laura smiled, and went to see whether she could find the required item in the waiting room.

"Red…" Joe spoke to Megan, when Laura was gone, and she glanced up from her magazine inquiringly. "Frank's going to be awfully glad you're here, when he wakes up. He was asking for you, out there in the woods – right after he was hurt, he kept calling for you."

The girl's long-lashed eyes filled with tears. "I wish I could have been there for him," she whispered.

"You're here now," Joe replied. "And that's what's important."

###

Forty-five minutes later, when Laura's voice was beginning to give out from reading magazine articles to a restless Joe, Frank made a sudden sound, halfway between a moan and articulated speech, and turned his head on the pillow. Laura stopped reading, and Megan dropped her magazine and leaned closer to the bed.

"Frank?" she breathed, just above a whisper.

A moment…two…and then Frank sighed softly, and opened his eyes. He stared hazily up at the ceiling for a few seconds, then blinked, and started looking around the room.

"Frank…" Megan repeated his name softly.

Slowly, he focused on her, and a smile quirked the corners of his mouth. "Hey, Baby…" he murmured, and moved the fingers of his hand, inviting her clasp.

Laura stood up and moved to Frank's bedside. "Sweetie-pie, it's good to see you awake," she said, and leaned over him to gently brush a kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Mom." The smile was there for Laura too, even though the eyes were bleary with sleep and pain medication. Frank swallowed gingerly; evidently his throat was sore. "I'm sorry…if you were worried," he said. "Have I been…asleep long?"

"Oh, on and off since yesterday!" Joe commented from the other bed. "And it's about time you woke up and started pulling your weight!"

Frank turned his head on the pillow, looking for the source of the teasing comments. "You sound…way too…chipper," he murmured resentfully, and swiveled his gaze back to his mother and then to Megan. "I can't remember anything much, after we got out of the woods," he said then, sounding just a little panicked. "Why can't I remember?"

"Honey, it's okay!" Laura hastened to reassure him. "It's because of the anesthetic – anesthesia often wipes out a person's short-term memory. Don't worry about it!"

"Oh…yeah." Frank moved his head in a fractional nod, and relaxed. "I knew that…guess I forgot – that – too." He was gripping Megan's hand now, and she found she liked that _much_ better than when _she_ was clasping _his_ limp fingers. Now there was reassuring warmth and pressure returned. "Baby…" he tugged slightly on her hand, and she bent close. "I'm so sorry…this scared you – didn't it? I'm sorry…didn't mean to worry you."

She raised her free hand and stroked his face, her touch feather-light. "It's okay…just as long as you're all right, that's what's important." She kissed the tips of her fingers and touched them to his lips. "You should rest now."

"Honey, are you hurting much?" Laura asked him gently, noting the frown puckering his brow.

"Mmmm…not too much." Frank gave her a hazy smile. "Whatever they're giving me…it's good stuff, Mom – the drugs are real good…real nice…."

There was a snort from the adjoining bed. "They didn't give me anything half as good!" Joe commented.

"You didn't need it," Megan informed him crisply. Again she stroked Frank's cheek. "You need to rest," she repeated.

Before Frank could summon the energy to either agree or protest, the door was opened and Dr. Singh, the surgeon, walked in. He smiled when he saw his patient was awake.

"Very good, if you're awake that means you're recovering from last night's anesthesia!" he exclaimed. He checked Frank over, nodding in satisfaction as he jotted notes on the chart, and then turned to Laura. "I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that Frank is doing very well," he began. "All his vitals are strong, and his blood work looks good. He lost almost four pints yesterday, one during surgery last night, and we're infusing the last transfusion even now." He indicated one of the IVs. "It's going to be at least two more days – more likely three – before we can think about releasing him from the hospital, though. We want to be absolutely sure there are no adverse effects from either the transfusions or the surgery…and no aftereffects from the concussion."

"Three days sounds reasonable," Laura replied, smiling at her eldest. Inside, she cringed at the thought of him being released that _soon_ , but she tried to hide the reaction.

"I'll be back this evening to see you, Frank!" Dr. Singh announced, and departed as quickly as he had come.

They sat and talked quietly for a time after the doctor had left, mostly Joe telling Frank about the things which had occurred in the woods, which the elder boy had forgotten. Eventually, though, Joe started feeling restless again.

"I've got to get out of this bed!" he complained. "I want to be up on my feet!"

Megan sighed. "Joe, you're something else, you really are!" she said, her tone a mixture of patient exasperation and teasing laughter. "I'll go ask the nurses if Dr. Ashton is around, and if he is, would they have him stop in and give you permission to run around the hospital corridors, okay?" She squeezed Frank's hand, got to her feet, and left the room.

Joe looked over at Frank. "Keep her," he advised.

After a bit, Megan returned, followed shortly by Dr. Ashton. The physician looked Joe over, and granted permission for him to try walking around a bit, even to go down to the hospital cafeteria, if he desired, so long as he took it slowly, and didn't disconnect from his IV cart.

"You're still getting antibiotics to ward off infection from those cuts and scratches, Joe, plus saline for the dehydration – you need those IVs. So don't get cute and try to go anywhere without them!" the doctor cautioned.

"I won't," Joe promised. "I'll be careful, Dr. Ashton."

"I'll make sure he is," Laura said dryly, giving her younger son a significant look. "You weren't thinking of trotting off to the cafeteria alone, were you?" she added, as Dr. Ashton departed.

"No, Mom." Joe grinned sheepishly. He eased himself to a sitting position, and carefully pushed back the covers – and then paused. "I can't go wandering around in this!" he cried, indicating the printed-fabric hospital gown he wore.

His mother choked back a laugh. "I think there may be a robe in the closet," she said, and produced one for Joe, who managed to drape it around himself. There were also thin slippers, and Joe put them on, wrinkling his nose to express his opinion of this footwear. Then he cautiously got to his feet, leaning against the bed for a moment to accustom himself to being upright again. Megan took his unencumbered arm to steady him, while Laura transferred the IVs to the rolling stand.

"Megan, honey – why don't you go along with them?" Frank drowsily suggested to his girlfriend. "You look like you could use a break from sitting here with me."

"I'm not leaving you here alone," she replied firmly. "Remember what your dad said!"

"Huh?" Frank looked confused. "Did I forget something else?"

"Oh…no, I guess you were still asleep when he said you shouldn't be left by yourself," Megan corrected herself.

The door was opened at that moment, and one of the nurses entered the room. "Hi, Frank," she said, smiling at him cheerily. "I'm here to change the bandage on your shoulder, and do a little more blood work."

"Definitely a good time for you to take a walk!" Frank told Megan firmly. "Go on, Baby, please?"

"If the nurse is here with him, it should be all right," Laura allowed. "We'll be back in probably 10 minutes," she said to the nurse, who nodded agreement. Laura, Megan and Joe slowly walked out of the room, and headed down the hall at a stately pace.

###

Fifteen minutes later, the elevator doors slid open on their return trip, and they stepped onto the fifth floor once again. Joe looked satisfied, but tired, and Laura was privately certain he was going to be happy to stay in bed for awhile after this little experiment.

They were nearing the boys' room when suddenly there resounded a hullabaloo of noise and shouting, coming directly from the room. Laura gasped with alarm and ran to the door, followed by Megan, leaving Joe standing in the hallway. To Laura's horror, she saw Frank, lying flat in his bed, his face a ghastly shade of white. Beside the bed, struggling wildly with a hospital orderly, was Randall Claremont!


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thanks to those leaving feedback. Sorry if it's dragging out interminably. There are only 28 chapters, so the tedium will be alleviated soon.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 23

Riding in the passenger seat of the rental car gave Vanessa a definite feeling of _déjà vu._ She distinctly remembered the mad drive of the previous night, but the difference between riding through the dark in search of the hospital and riding in the bright sunshine towards Tahoe was incredible.

She felt a little uncomfortable, too, accompanying Fenton. She hadn't ever been as terrified of him as Megan had, but still, he was a reserved, somewhat distant, often-absent parental figure; the father of her beloved boyfriend, certainly, but still not someone Vanessa had ever considered a good buddy! The past few days had changed things a lot, but still…. She glanced at him covertly from the corners of her blue-gray eyes, wondering if she should try to make conversation, or if he'd prefer to be left in peace.

Mr. Hardy had sensed Vanessa's nervousness, and he remembered all too well the constraint which had previously existed between himself and Megan. _What_ _is_ _it with me, that I scare these girls half to death?_ he mused _. Am I really that formidable? I don't mind a little respect, but enough is enough!_ Deciding to try and break the ice, he said aloud, "Relax, Vanessa, I don't bite – at least, not all that often."

She turned her head to face him, and laughed a little. "Was it that obvious?" She took a deep breath, and leaned back, feeling the tension seep away.

"Fairly, yes. Are you comfortable? Want the air conditioning turned up? Or down? Different radio station?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Vanessa replied. _Okay, he evidently does want to make conversation…._ She searched for a topic – and then remembered something from the previous night!

"Mr. Hardy, last night Megan and I were talking, while we were waiting for the car to be fixed – and we had an idea. We wondered if there was any possibility that the thefts of camcorders and watches and cameras might have been a screen – something done to conceal the fact that someone wanted Frank's camera, all along. That whoever was behind the thefts was also behind the murder…."

The detective turned his head and looked at her intently for a moment before returning his gaze to the road. "That's entirely possible, Vanessa. I commend you girls for coming up with such a good theory. If I'd been thinking with half a brain, I might have thought of it on my own – but, of course, I didn't." He smiled. "I'm very glad you and Megan came along on this trip!"

Vanessa blushed and laughed. "I'm the grateful one!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't have had any vacation at all, if you and Mrs. Hardy hadn't invited me along!"

He nodded his acceptance, and settled back in the driver's seat. "Let's talk about your theory a little more…."

###

Discussing the girls' idea occupied their attention, and surprisingly soon, they were in Stateline, pulling into the parking lot of Caesars. When they went inside, Jorge hailed them from the concierge's desk. He had the keys to a replacement rental car, he told Fenton, for the spray-painted letters still adorned the hood of the one the girls had taken to Reno, and this needed to be taken care of. They exchanged keys, and Vanessa thanked the concierge again for his assistance with the map and directions, and assured him that Frank and Joe were going to recover.

Getting an extra key to the boys' room from the front desk, Vanessa and Fenton went up to their floor, and while Fenton went into his own room, Vanessa went first to Frank and Joe's, to pack a small bag with changes of clothes for both boys.

Rummaging through things, Vanessa located a fairly small duffle, and put in two complete clothing changes, recalling that both boys' clothes had been torn and bloodstained. She mentally flipped a coin, shrugged and picked up one of the electric razors from the bathroom counter, figuring they could share, for once. Things were where they had been yesterday, when she and Megan and Laura had straightened up the room from the trashing episode. _Yesterday…was it really only yesterday?_ She turned back to the bedroom area, and grabbed what looked to be what _someone_ slept in; at least, it was stuffed beneath one of the pillows of Frank's bed. _Laura must have put it there; I don't remember doing it._ There was nothing under the pillows on Joe's bed… _well, I'll toss in an extra pair of boxer shorts, I guess!_ she thought, and did so.

Smoothing the covers back after her search for pajamas, Vanessa noticed something sparkling on the carpet next to the bed, and knelt down to investigate what it might be. She held the little shiny object in her hand and looked at it closely. It was men's jewelry, a gold tie tack. She didn't think it belonged to either Frank or Joe; she was sure neither of them had _brought_ a tie, and she couldn't make out what the crest indicated; but she dropped it in her pocket, to show Mr. Hardy.

Vanessa then went to the room she shared with Megan. The girls had taken their makeup and some extra clothing with them the night before, so she didn't need to pack anything else, but she spent some time brushing her long hair, then paced restlessly while she awaited Fenton's knock on the door.

A short time later, she responded to the expected knock, and admitted Mr. Hardy, who looked vastly improved. He had showered, shaved, and was dressed in clean clothing, and carried a small suitcase which Vanessa surmised must contain things for Laura. _He still looks stressed_ , she thought _, but not so badly, now._

"I found something," Vanessa held out the tie tack she had picked up. "I don't think it's either Frank's or Joe's. Do you suppose it might belong to whoever trashed their room? And can you identify the crest on it?"

Fenton took the little ornament and examined it closely, then shook his head. "I haven't ever seen it before, that I know of. Well, I need to talk to Lieutenant Hunt anyway, so I'll ask him about it."

They went downstairs and out to the parking lot. The new rental car was identical to the old, save that this one was green, rather than beige. Fenton courteously ushered Vanessa into the passenger seat and closed the door on her, then got in himself and started the engine. They drove through Stateline's morning traffic to the police station.

When they got there and went in, Fenton was somehow not in the least surprised to find Lieutenant Hunt yet again on duty. _I wonder if the man ever sleeps!_

"Mr. Hardy!" the blonde policeman greeted them. "How are your sons?"

"They're going to be all right, but they'll need some time to recuperate," Fenton replied. He explained to Hunt about the rockslide, and the resultant injuries the boys had received.

"Yes, we got the call about the assailant in the woods," Hunt confirmed, "but we had to refer it to the State Police; it wasn't in our jurisdiction. From the info I've gotten back, when the State Police sent a team out there, they didn't find the guy, but they did find the avalanche site, and it most certainly was set to fall. According to the man I spoke with, the rocks were rigged in a very precarious area of that section of woods, and they were shot free with a couple of blasts from a rifle. Did your boys say anything about hearing shots?"

Fenton nodded grimly. "Yes, they did." Inside, he was marveling at what Hunt had told him. _So Randall Claremont_ _did_ _call the police, just as Joe asked him to! What sort of game is that man playing?_

"Then that's how the slide was triggered. There was no guarantee that it would kill them, but it certainly would incapacitate them long enough for whoever it was to come along and finish the job. One or the other of your sons must not have been unconscious very long."

"I'm not sure," Fenton murmured, "but I suspect it was Joe." He took the tie tack from his pocket, and held it out for Hunt's inspection. "Do you recognize the crest?"

Hunt examined the piece of jewelry carefully, and shook his head no, handing it back. "It's not a casino logo – more likely, it's a family crest of some sort."

"In that case, I know just where to look, to find out the information," Fenton said with some satisfaction. "Vanessa found this today in the boys' room; it might be a clue to whoever ransacked it. The back is missing, so evidently it fell off someone's tie." Fenton looked closely at the tie tack again, then pulled out his cell phone and took a photo of it. Then he handed the jewelry to Hunt. "It's evidence, Lieutenant – it rightfully belongs with you."

Saying he'd keep in touch, and requesting that Fenton keep him updated on the boys' progress, Lieutenant Hunt bid them goodbye. Fenton and Vanessa went back outside, got into the rental car once more, and headed for the highway to Reno.

"Mr. Hardy, how are you going to find out about the crest on the tie tack?" Vanessa asked, as they rode along.

"If it's a normal family crest, there are books in libraries filled with that sort of information," Fenton told her, smiling. "I have a contact back on the East coast who is extremely knowledgeable about such things, and I'll call him after we get back to the hospital."

Vanessa smiled, feeling very pleased. She had found something which might be an important clue in this bewildering case! Perhaps it would help them find out who had hurt Frank…and Joe! Her lips tightened. She wanted whoever had hurt Joe to be punished.

###

Fenton was just starting up Virginia Street, coming into Reno, when his cell phone rang. He quickly answered it, and heard Laura's frantic voice on the other end.

"Fenton, you need to get back here right away!" she cried. "Randall Claremont just tried to kill Frank!"


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Grateful to those who have left feedback or who have at least read the story.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 24

A grim-faced Fenton Hardy pushed every speed limit and ran numerous traffic lights on the way to Washoe Medical Center. All the way, he was berating himself for allowing this to happen to his son. He had known what he'd heard in the hospital hallway; he was sure Claremont had threatened to kill Frank – and yet, he hadn't acted on that knowledge! He hadn't done anything about it. _What was I thinking? I as much as LET Claremont make the attempt, when I didn't confront him last night! How could I have been so…so_ _careless_ _? I should have said something, should have demanded to know what he was up to, what was going on…but I didn't._

He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that an alarmed Vanessa asked him if he was all right. His knuckles had turned white again. Fenton consciously relaxed his grip, flexing his fingers. "I'm all right, but I'm an idiot," he informed Vanessa ruefully. "I should have said or done something last night, but I let the fact that the Claremonts had rescued Frank and Joe cloud my thinking. Obviously, I'm getting old and senile!"

"You are not getting old and senile, and you're not an idiot!" she denied. "You're being much too hard on yourself, Mr. Hardy – anyone else in your place would have thought the same thing you did."

Fenton swung into the hospital parking lot, rammed the car into the first space he spotted, and he and Vanessa hurried across the asphalt to the hospital entrance. As they entered the building, they came face to face with a team of police officers escorting a violently protesting Randall Claremont out.

"Hardy! You've got to believe me – I didn't try to hurt your son, I swear it!" Claremont shouted, reaching to grasp Fenton's arm and halt his progress. "I found someone else trying to hurt him when I went into his room; I'm not the one who did it!"

Fenton stared at him, loathingly. He wanted to hurl the man against the wall, to hurt him in payment for what he might have done to Frank…but instead, he jerked his arm free and swept down the hall, with Vanessa trailing in his wake. He needed to get to his children. _I wonder if Lisa was in on it too, or if he waited until she had left, so that she wouldn't know what he was doing?_ His mouth curved in a bitter smile. He found it ironic that he was willing to give Lisa Claremont the benefit of the doubt, even after what had just occurred. He had wanted to trust the Claremonts…both of them…to think better of them – and it had nearly gotten Frank killed!

He and Vanessa rushed to get an elevator, and soon were emerging on the fifth floor. They hurried down the hallway and burst into room 538, where they found the room full of people. Megan was sitting next to Frank's bed, clutching his hand tightly in both of hers. Tears overflowed her azure eyes and streaked her cheeks, dripping on their clasped hands.

Laura had been perched on the edge of Joe's bed; as her husband entered the room, she rose and rushed into his embrace.

"Oh Fenton! We only left him for a few minutes; we were walking Joe down to get something to eat—" She clutched at him frantically. "He wasn't alone when we left…" She stopped speaking and swallowed, trying to get herself under control before continuing. "There was a nurse with him when we left, changing his bandages…."

"When I left, I thought he was asleep." The nurse in question was in the room too. "I thought he was okay – I had no idea he wasn't supposed to be left alone! None of us knew someone might try to kill him!"

Frank was lying quietly, awake, but still ashy-pale; much whiter than he had been when Fenton had seen him earlier that morning. He was gently caressing the back of Megan's hand with his thumb, evidently trying to calm and reassure her with that small gesture, since he was unable to hold her in his arms the way he wanted to. _It's all right, Baby…I'm okay._ Despite his own upset, Frank's primary concern was Megan.

Fenton smiled a little at the sight, feeling relief sweep over him. "Frank, can you tell me what happened, son?" he asked.

Frank gave his head a little shake. "Dad, I don't know what happened," he said quietly. "One minute I was asleep, and the next, I couldn't breathe. I don't remember what happened then; I guess I blacked out. When I came to, some man was standing here yelling that he didn't do it, it was somebody else."

Laura's eyes were filled with sadness. "I didn't want to believe you were right, Fenton," she whispered. "I didn't want to believe that the Claremonts could be behind all this trouble. They were so nice on the ship – I just couldn't believe it of them! Why? Why would they do this?"

"I don't know what kind of motive they had, honey," Fenton admitted. "At least, not for killing Evan Reed. I suppose it had something to do with the gambling debts." He sighed deeply. "It's a relief to have it over with, and him caught."

"He kept saying he wasn't guilty, though," Laura said unhappily. "He kept claiming that he came into the room and found another man leaning over Frank and suffocating him with a pillow. He said he tried to stop him, to pull it back – but the nurse said when she came in, there was just Randall with the pillow in his hands, and Frank unconscious!"

A man in policeman's uniform appeared at the door, prepared to take statements – but no one could tell him anything. Not even Frank. Fenton did mention that the Reno police might want to talk to Lieutenant Hunt at Stateline. "The suspect, Randall Claremont, may be a suspect in a murder case there – and I'm fairly sure that case has something to do with why the attempt was made on my son."

"All right, I'll call him as soon as I get back to my office," the police detective nodded. He departed once again, going out to talk to any of the hospital personnel who might have been in the area at the time of the attack.

"Okay…now you've got to tell me." Frank was beginning to regain some color, and he loosened his grip on Megan's hand to cautiously touch the button which raised the head of his bed. Once he was slightly elevated, Frank continued: "Why are all these people trying to kill me?" He stared challengingly around the room at his family and friends.

"Oh…that's right – you don't know!" Megan covered her mouth with one hand, and her eyes widened. Hastily, she swiped at her cheeks, dashing away the remnants of tears – no time now for emotional spasms; there was business to conduct! "It's the camera, Frank – you filmed a murder!"

"I what?" Frank blinked. "Baby, maybe you'd better call a nurse, because I think I'm hallucinating. I'd swear you just said I filmed a murder."

"I did!" his girlfriend informed him. "When you took the pictures of us standing with the Roman statues – there was a reenactment rehearsal going on in the background – at least, that's what we thought. But it wasn't – it was someone killing Evan Reed, right there behind us!" She shivered a little, recalling the scene on the video tape. "You caught it on film, Frank."

"My God…" Frank murmured. "I never noticed it at all – I mean, I just saw them in the background, and figured it would be fun to have some more of it on film." He looked over at his father. "And that's why I've been a target for the past four days? Someone thinks I'm a witness?"

"I believe so, yes," Fenton replied. "It should stop now – now that Claremont has been apprehended."

"Wow….Well, that explains a few things…."Frank's voice faded off, and suddenly his eyelids drooped with weariness.

"Why don't we let them both rest?" Laura suggested softly, looking from Frank to Joe, who had also fallen asleep, tired out from the walk to and from the cafeteria, and the excitement following. "Yes, honey, you may stay for awhile if you want to," she added to Megan, anticipating the protest. "But when he's asleep, take a break, all right? I guess we don't have to watch him like a hawk anymore." Both her voice and her eyes were sad, thinking of Randall Claremont and her misplaced trust in him and Lisa.

#####

The next day:

" 'Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty I'm free at last!' " Joe exulted. He was overjoyed to be checking out of the hospital – he hated hospitals! He chuckled a little, thinking about it – he'd nearly killed himself to _get_ Frank to a hospital…and get himself here too, of course…but he really didn't want to be here! He finished tying his shoes, delighted to be _wearing_ shoes again, and glanced over at the occupant of the other bed, who was watching him enviously.

"Wish you were coming too, bro," he said to Frank sympathetically, "But it'll be only a couple more days!"

"I know." Frank smiled a little. _I know…it's only almost the whole rest of my vacation, that's all,_ he thought wistfully, but he managed to squelch the thought. After all, he was lucky to be alive to be _able_ to resent missing his vacation!

"Mom, I suppose I could stay with you – keep Frank company—" Joe ventured, glancing at Laura. Her eyes grew large with surprise at this magnanimous offer from Joe, who wanted nothing more than to leave the confines of Washoe Medical Center and never return, but before she could reply, Frank was interrupting his brother.

"NO!" he said firmly. "I'm going to be just fine without you here – don't you ever listen to me when I talk?"

"Not when I can avoid it!" Joe muttered aside to Vanessa, grinning.

"I'm fine!" Frank insisted, giving Joe a dirty look. "I don't want all of you missing out on your vacation just because of me! If you do, I'll suffer horrible pangs of guilt, and it will eat at me day and night, and I'll have to undergo years of psychiatric therapy to get rid of all the guilt, and—" His voice was drowned out by whoops of laughter from his brother and Megan's rippling giggles. "See?" he concluded, "You don't want me to have to go through all that, do you?"

Laura shook her head, laughing with the rest. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily, my dear."

Frank glanced at her and took his argument to another quarter. "Baby, you're going to go back to Tahoe, aren't you?" he coaxed Megan. "You shouldn't spend time sitting here with me when you could be on the beach with Vanessa and Joe."

"But I want to spend time with you…" she protested.

"I'll be asleep a lot of the time anyway." Frank pushed his line of reasoning. "Please, Megan, you need to do all the sightseeing for both of us, now. Go see things and do things and take pictures and then come back and tell me all about it." Suddenly the dark eyes filled with sadness. "Oh baby, I told you we'd go to Vikingsholm, come hell or high water, didn't I? And now I can't keep my promise…"

"It's okay – it's okay, really!" Megan hastened to reassure him. "Maybe we'll go there tomorrow, and then I can tell you about it, like you said." She leaned over the bed and cupped his face gently between her palms. "Don't feel bad about it, Frank, please. I'm not sure I can have much fun while you're here, but I'll try."

He reached up and returned the gesture one-handed, rejoicing that most of the extraneous tubes and wires had been removed from his good arm. "I love you, Megan Wright," he whispered, for her ears alone. "I love you so much it's scary." He raised himself up a little to press a gentle kiss against her lips, wincing as the movement pulled at his sore ribs. "Now scram, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Reluctantly, Megan and Vanessa and Joe departed, joining Fenton in the hallway.

"Mom, are you absolutely positive you don't want to go back to Stateline too?" Frank tried one more time.

"I'm not going to leave you here all by yourself," Laura declared. "I realize you're going to sleep a good deal of the time, and I also realize you're all grown up and don't need babysitting – but being grown up doesn't necessarily mean you don't get lonely. I have plenty to do to keep busy – I bought several crossword books from the hospital gift shop, and a couple of novels that looked interesting. I'll work on those when you're sleeping, or if you don't feel like talking, or whatever, and I'll be just fine."

Frank sighed. _I wish she'd go too – I feel so guilty. She and Dad had looked forward so much to this trip, and now she's missing everything, all because of me._ But he knew Laura would brook no more arguments.

###

Fenton drove the now-familiar route to Tahoe, with Joe, Vanessa and Megan as his passengers. Joe enlivened the ride by repeating his story of the trek through the woods after the rockslide, for Megan and Vanessa wanted to hear it all again – and suddenly voiced a question he hadn't thought of before.

"Dad – what happened to our motorcycles? They were rented…and they were ruined!"

"I believe the cycle rental place took a truck and got them, Joe," Fenton assured him. "Don't worry, insurance covers the costs of replacing them."

"Oh…good." Joe took up his tale again, for once admitting just how hard that trip through the woods had been. "I really wasn't sure we were going to make it out," he concluded. "Frank was hurt so bad, and all I wanted to do was collapse right there beside him." He sighed, and Vanessa reached to enfold his hand and squeeze it tightly in her own. "Probably the hardest thing I've done in a long time – except maybe for landing that plane, back in April!" he grinned ruefully.

"That rockslide was definitely sabotage, by the way," Fenton commented then. "It was rigged to go off when you went by – the guy shot out the supports, and that's what caused all the rocks to fall."

"I still don't understand why that Claremont guy was trying to kill us," Joe complained. "Did he really off Evan Reed?"

"I suppose so," his father replied. "All the evidence points that way. I just don't have any clue as to a motive." Fenton frowned thoughtfully. He still didn't feel right about Randall Claremont. "Perhaps the police will find out. I'm pretty sure it's Mob-connected; after all, Reed had a gambling problem. You know how the heavies work, Joe – If you can't pay your debts in one way, you pay them in another, less lucrative way…but pay them you do!"

"I'm just glad it's all over," Megan said, from the front passenger seat, "and I wish Frank could have come back with us."

"There will still be time for him to enjoy some vacation after he's released from the hospital," Fenton tried to console her. "We'll just have to make sure those last three days make up to Frank for all the time lost in the hospital."

Megan smiled at that, and turned her mind to thinking up ideas to celebrate Frank's return to the hotel in Stateline.

It seemed like coming home, to drive into Stateline and head for Caesars Palace. Even though they'd been running back and forth between there and Reno for the past three days, they hadn't _stayed_ , and suddenly the opulent casino seemed homey and welcoming. Fenton pulled into the hotel's parking lot, and turned off the motor.

"End of the line," he announced. "Everybody out!" He touched the button to pop the trunk lid, so they could reach the small bags they'd taken to Reno.

Megan hopped out of the passenger seat, and hovered impatiently while Vanessa got out, followed more slowly by Joe. Vanessa took his arm, and Megan grabbed their things from the trunk.

"Girls, would you mind taking Joe inside and getting him settled?" Fenton asked, then. "I want to try and check with the guy I have researching that jewelry crest; we've been playing telephone tag for about 24 hours now."

"Dad, they don't have to 'take' me anywhere!" Joe objected. "I'm perfectly capable—"

"Hush." Vanessa put her fingers against his lips. "You're a convalescent; you don't get an opinion."

Fenton chuckled and got out of the car. He retrieved his small suitcase from the trunk as the teens moved slowly towards the hotel's entrance.

Joe had been slightly put out at Vanessa's rebuke, but by the time they had walked across the hot parking lot and through the colonnade to reach the hotel lobby, he had to admit he was getting very tired.

"Joe, do you want to sit down and rest?" Vanessa asked him anxiously, when they got inside. "You look awfully pale."

"No, no, that's okay." Joe smiled at her. "But I guess I'd probably better take it easy today after all – would you two mind terribly if we spent the day by the pool, or doing sort of quiet stuff, rather than going out walking, or something energetic?" He sighed, looking forlorn. "I want to do something energetic…I just…don't have the energy!" he griped.

"Sitting by the pool would be a very nice thing to do," Megan replied. "We've all had some very stressful days lately, and that sounds restful!"

"I agree!" Vanessa said. "We don't even have to swim – we can just lounge around and dangle our feet in the water." She took a long look at Joe, and her twinkling eyes softened with affectionate concern. "You sure you're even up to that?"

"Yes, I'm up to that!" Joe gave an exasperated chuckle. "Come on, let's get upstairs and change, huh?"

"Oh!" Megan gasped suddenly. "Your room! You didn't hear about what happened to your room!"

Joe gave her a funny look. "What about my room?"

The girls told him of how the hotel room had been ransacked and searched and vandalized, and Joe listened in open-mouthed amazement.

"Well, if that doesn't take the cake," he muttered, when they had finished. "I suppose whoever did it was trying to find the videotape, huh?"

"Yes, that's what we decided," Vanessa said. "We – your mom and Megan and I – we tried to clear everything up, Joe, but things might not be where you and Frank put them… I'm sorry…."

He grinned at her and ran his hand lightly down the back of her silky hair. "Doesn't matter at all, Beautiful; after all this, I don't remember where we put anything anyway!"

She broke into laughter, exchanging a twinkling glance with Megan. "Well, I bet Frank wasn't keeping his swimsuit on the chandelier!"

###

Fifteen minutes later the three met again at the elevators, Joe wearing shorts and a shirt over his swim trunks, and the girls clad in their swimsuits, but wearing overwraps and sandals as well. They headed for the second floor, where the pool was, but before they got there, Joe suggested a change of plans.

"I need food!" he announced. "Real food! I'm lucky to have survived on that hospital stuff for two days!" He tendered Vanessa and Megan his most charming, innocent smile. "You'll grant this poor, suffering, convalescent his wishes, won't you? I mean, if I don't get something decent to eat soon, I'll be too weak to walk!"

The girls laughingly turned in the direction of one of the hotel's many restaurants. "It's lucky we're wearing this stuff over our swimsuits," Vanessa commented. "Otherwise we'd never be allowed to eat in here."

They found a table, and checking the time, decided to go with brunch items. Joe, with a blissful sigh, ordered waffles, which nearly sent Vanessa into hysterics.

"You've eaten waffles – every time – we've gone – out to eat!" she gurgled. "I don't think you've – had anything else – the whole time!"

"Yes I have!" Joe defended himself. "We had Italian one night, remember? Spaghetti, calzone…remember?"

"He's right, Van," Megan concurred. A dimple was dodging into sight in her cheek – a dimple which had been sadly absent, lately. "He didn't have waffles then. I don't think they were on the menu!"

###

When they finished eating, they once again headed for the pool – and once again, found themselves halted. For as they passed near the concierge's desk, Megan waved at Jorge, and then stopped in surprise. Standing next to Jorge was none other than Thomas Streeter! Jorge beckoned to the teens, and they ambled over, curiously.

"This young man wants to speak with you," Jorge announced. "Hello, young Mr. Hardy; it's good to see you doing so well."

"Thanks," Joe smiled at the concierge. "It's great to be back."

"Hello, Thomas, it's nice to see you again." Megan exerted all her considerable charm, for Thomas was looking very nervous. He kept glancing around, looking over his shoulder as if he expected something or someone to leap out at him from a dark corner.

"Joe, this is Thomas Streeter," Vanessa introduced the two young men. "He's the guy who fell off the _Royal Tahoe_ , that your dad rescued." Tactfully, she didn't say _The guy your dad_ _chased_ _off the Royal Tahoe_. "Thomas, this is Joe Hardy."

"Hello…." Streeter cast a suspicious glance at Joe. "I – I wanted to talk to you – but somewhere private," he said to the girls. "I – I have something I need to tell you."

"You don't need to be nervous anymore, Thomas," Megan told him kindly. "They caught the guy who tried to kill Frank."

The young man looked confused. "It isn't that – that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." He cast another wary glance around the lobby.

"Let's go up to our room," Vanessa proposed. "No one will bother us there."

Once in the hotel room, the girls and Joe settled themselves comfortably, but Thomas paced the floor like a caged tiger, chewing his lip uncertainly, and frowning with indecision. Finally he wheeled around and confronted Megan. "I think I've figured out what's going on," he announced abruptly.

"Okay…." She waited, unsure of where this was going. "Can you tell us?" she finally asked, when he remained silent.

"Yeah, yeah – you see…" Thomas moved over to the window, and stared out, his face white and his eyes fearful. Even though they were on the eighth floor, it was though Thomas expected someone to leap in through the windows at him. "Evan Reed was really one of my best friends. And I knew his girlfriend – you know, Kayla. She was his fiancée, really."

He paused and looked around nervously again. It seemed to the waiting teens that Thomas wanted very much to tell them his story, but something was preventing him. He wanted to get it out, all of it – but wasn't sure he could. He kept looking at the door, judging the distance, as if he was mentally trying to decide if he could get out before one of them caught him.

"Go on," Megan encouraged him again. Her voice was soft and persuasive, and she leaned her elbow on the table, and rested her chin on her fist. Her big eyes were fixed on Streeter's face, and she smiled warmly at him. Joe, watching her, hid a grin behind his hand. _She's got some smooth technique there!_ he thought. _I want her along every time we need to question somebody about something!_

At that moment, there was a soft knock on the door. Thomas Streeter jumped as if it had been a pistol shot, and looked wildly around for a means to escape. When Vanessa opened the door, Fenton Hardy stepped into the room, walked over to one of the beds, and sat down quietly on it.

Now Thomas looked even more like a caged animal. He stopped pacing, but shrank against the wall nearest the door, as if he wanted to fling it open and flee.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Fenton commented quietly. "But I happened to see you four come up here, and I thought I should hear what Thomas had to say. Thomas, did you know Mr. Claremont too?"

Thomas looked confused. "Mr. Claremont? I don't know any Mr. Claremont, sir."

"He was just going to tell us what he knew, Dad…let's give him a chance," Joe suggested. He stacked pillows against the headboard of Vanessa's bed, and leaned into them, cuddling close to Vanessa as he did so. "Go ahead, Thomas."

"Well…" Streeter began, hesitantly. "I know who was behind the poisonings – the food poisonings, that is." He looked around at his listeners, making sure they understood. "You see, Evan…his fiancée killed herself just a month ago. You see, she worked at the Grand Tahoe Resort as a cocktail waitress, you know…and one night, Mr. Jacobs accused her of being short on her count – and it wasn't the first time! And then…then he hit on her – made a pass at her, I mean, not hit her…." he clarified. "When she refused him, he fired her, right then and there. And he told her that if she ever told anyone, even one single person, that he'd tell the police that she'd been stealing from the guests, and have her arrested." He paused, as both Megan and Vanessa made shocked, sympathetic noises.

"The police never believe us, you know," he continued, "when an employer reports something like that. It happened to one of Kayla's friends a year or so ago, so she knew it could happen, very easily." He swallowed hard. "Kayla was upset – more upset than anyone knew. We didn't know why she did it – at least, I didn't. She killed herself that night. She left a note that said she just didn't want to go on living anymore; that some things were scarier than living – and she swallowed a whole bottle of pain pills. Evan found her the next morning – he'd worked a double shift that night…he was trying to save up, to buy her a really nice engagement ring. They both worked so hard…"

Streeter's voice broke on the last words, and he stopped speaking, trying to collect himself. He was shaking from the effort.

Fenton stared at him in dumbfounded shock. _Oh no…._ Joe looked at him, seeing that something had definitely gotten to his father, but not sure what it was.

Finally Thomas continued. "Evan told me she'd called him, and told him she had been fired...but he said they'd been interrupted, and she didn't finish the call. When he got home, he… found her. He didn't know why she would have killed herself over losing a job, but he needed someone to blame, and he chose Mr. Jacobs….And I think that's why he started doing what he did – you know, messing up the food and stuff, so that guests got sick. He didn't mean to really hurt anybody – not the guests, I mean – but he was trying to ruin Mr. Jacobs' business. He probably had some of his friends help him – Evan had lots of friends…." The boy gulped again.

Fenton was looking rather ill at this point. "Thomas—" he rasped. "What did you find out this morning, that made you realize why it was that Kayla killed herself?"

"Well, I heard a couple of the waitresses from the Grand Tahoe talking," Streeter replied. "The employee grapevine, you know…" He grinned sardonically. "One of the dealers who was bringing his money belt to the office, heard Mr. Jacobs proposition Kayla. I don't think Mr. Jacobs ever realized people could hear what went on in his office – but the door wasn't completely shut, I guess…and people were coming and going….A waitress overheard him tell Kayla that if she told anyone about him hitting on her, he'd have her arrested—"

"Why didn't someone say something before?" Fenton demanded.

"No one put things together until after Evan was murdered," the boy admitted. "After all, three different people heard three different things. But there's more, Mr. Hardy – they said another dealer heard Mr. Jacobs tell Kayla that day, before she left, that if she told Evan anything about what had happened, that he'd have Evan killed. And," Thomas said softly, "even if she didn't tell him, I think that's what Mr. Jacobs did anyway…I think he killed Evan!"


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann and Max2013.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 25

Thomas Streeter, apparently afraid that he had said too much, looked down at his lap, a worried expression on his face. When he looked back up, Joe caught the glint of the young man's eyes, and evidently his father did, too.

"Why are you telling us this now?" Mr. Hardy demanded. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

Thomas looked as nervous as he had before, and Joe stared at him suspiciously _. It's like he can turn it off and on, like a light switch!_ Joe realized. _What was Thomas holding back from them?_

Thomas looked over at Megan, locking gazes with the girl, who was still regarding him steadily. She smiled encouragingly, and Thomas managed a faint smile in return.

"I was scared," he said in a low, unsteady voice. "I'm still scared. Mr. Jacobs probably killed my best friend….He'll kill to stay free, I'm sure of that. He'll kill to keep anyone from finding out…!" The low voice was tightening and rising in pitch and volume as Thomas spoke.

"Then why say something now?" Joe demanded. "Aren't you still scared he'll do something?"

Thomas looked up and met Joe's eyes. He gave a tiny shrug. "He might," he admitted. "But I can't keep hiding….it's – I just can't. He might kill again. He has to be stopped."

"Thomas, did Cameron Jacobs threaten you?" Fenton questioned him, but instead of answering, Thomas suddenly sprang to his feet and made a beeline for the door. He jerked it open, and hastily departed before anyone could stop him.

Joe made a half-hearted movement to go after him, but Fenton held up a detaining hand.

"He's either scared because he's lying, or he's scared because he fears for his life," Fenton said. "Either way, we aren't going to get anything more out of him without resorting to tactics I don't approve of. Let him go."

Joe sighed in dejection, but had to admit his father was probably right. "Do you believe him, Dad?"

"I don't know, Joe," his father admitted. "I suppose the same evidence – some of it, anyway – could point to Cameron Jacobs as well as Randall Claremont. Some of it – but not all. That knife is a pretty telling piece of evidence, and it's linked to Claremont. That's really why I started seriously considering him as a suspect. His wife's family is a notorious crime syndicate in Frisco – it all comes together."

"But why—" Megan raised that bothersome question once more. "why, if they're behind everything, did they save Frank and Joe, and take them to Reno to the hospital?"

Fenton chuckled grimly. "Honey, I wish I knew the answer to that." He leaned back in his chair, wincing.

Joe saw the grimace, and remembered suddenly that his father had been hurt himself, just a few days before. "Dad, are you all right? Do you want some aspirin?"

Fenton shook his head. "No, thanks, Joe. I'm okay; my back is just stiff, that's all."

"Could you go over the evidence again?" Joe requested, thoughtfully tracing designs on the back of Vanessa's hand with a forefinger as he spoke.

"Okay—" Mr. Hardy collected his thoughts for a moment. "There is the video tape, obviously. Whoever did the actual stabbing hasn't been identified. At the murder scene, I found a pair of prescription sunglasses with a letter 'C' on them. The C, of course, could be for Cameron as well as Claremont. The knife, you know about. And there's the fact that Randall Claremont was found in Frank's room in extremely suspicious circumstances!"

Joe sat up and gazed at Fenton – he had heard his father talking about Randall Claremont, but he hadn't heard much about this other guy, Cameron Jacobs. He only knew that Jacobs had been instrumental in getting his parents to Reno quickly, after the rental car had been vandalized. Joe _knew_ what had happened at the hospital with Claremont, after all…the guy had been found standing over Frank's bed with a pillow clutched in his hands, and Frank had still been gasping for air when they got back to his room!

Frank hadn't been able to identify his attacker – but jeez, they didn't need to paint a picture, did they? And there was all this other evidence, too – the sunglasses with the letter "C"…the video tape…the specialized knife that had been Evan Reed's murder weapon – a knife which Claremont owned. And obviously, the guy had to have connections, to have goons working for him in Tahoe!

There was just one problem, Joe realized, with this whole neatly-tied-up bundle – the Claremonts had saved his and Frank's lives, by bringing them to the hospital. And they'd hung around afterwards, and checked on the boys' conditions, and they'd evidently been nice and friendly to his parents….They hadn't had to do that – they could have left them lying there, and God only knew what would have happened to them. _That's the part that doesn't make sense,_ Joe mused _. And that's the part that's been bothering Dad about it – that the Claremonts brought us to the hospital._

Joe settled back against Vanessa again, but she was too agitated to sit still. She wriggled upright, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

"Mr. Hardy," she asked in a quavering voice. "What about the tie tack with the crest? Have you found anything out about that yet?"

Mr. Hardy shook his head. "No – but I'll try again, right now." He got to his feet and strode out, to his own room to make the call, his expression grim.

"Joe…?" Vanessa rubbed the back of his hand gently to get his attention. "What are you thinking?"

He focused on her, attempting a smile. "Just trying to make sense of this, Sugar. Frank videoed a murder, and now someone's trying to kill him because he's a possible witness. We now have two suspects, both of whom have strong cases against them."

"If we can believe Thomas," Vanessa commented sagely. "Do you think we can?"

Joe shrugged. "I don't know why Thomas would go to the trouble of trying to make his boss look bad, if it wasn't true," he said. "Unless he was just trying to make trouble for the man because of what happened to this girl, Kayla. You said he was afraid to talk, before?"

Both Vanessa and Megan nodded.

"He ran away from your dad, Joe, the first time he tried to talk to him – no, I mean the second time—" Megan corrected herself. "counting when he dove into the lake. He's either scared of something, or he's hiding something."

"Maybe Thomas is hiding something," Joe speculated. "Maybe he's trying to frame his boss, this Cameron Jacobs. Or maybe part of his story is true, and Thomas is upset that Jacobs was responsible for Kayla committing suicide – and he wants Jacobs to take the rap for something he didn't do – namely, murdering Evan Reed!" He shook his head in bewilderment. "This is so screwy!"

"Joe, what motive could the Claremonts have had for killing Evan Reed?" Vanessa pursued the question from another angle.

Joe shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Van. It could be anything – bad guys don't always need good reasons or clear motives. Maybe it was a mob thing – isn't that what Dad suspects? After all, even we had a run-in with them, with Bella's family on the other side…it happens."

"I don't think any of us is seeing things very clearly now," Vanessa said somberly. "There's too much to speculate on, and no clear information."

Again, Joe shrugged. "The one conclusive piece of evidence is that fancy knife that killed Reed. It belonged to Randall Claremont. Everything else might point to Cameron Jacobs – but not that."

"Do we know it's his, or do we know he has one similar to it?" Megan asked, frowning a little.

Joe shook his head. That one, he couldn't answer.

For a while, the three teens waited for Fenton's return, but as time passed, and he didn't appear, they finally decided to go back downstairs and sit by the indoor pool.

"He knows that's where we were originally heading," Joe said, "and when he finds out anything, he'll come and tell us."

###

Once beside the pool, Joe sought out a lounge chair that had a free one on each side, and eased himself into it. He leaned back, grateful – though he wouldn't have admitted it to the girls – to be off his feet. The big room smelled pleasantly of chlorine, and it wasn't too crowded _. It's nice here…it feels good…feels good to relax._ He grinned appreciatively as Vanessa took off her wrap and dived neatly into the pool, gliding underwater nearly half the length of the pool before she surfaced. _Jeez, but she's pretty! Hardy, you're one lucky guy…._

Megan, too, had slipped smoothly into the water, and was side-stroking across the pool. Vanessa climbed out and cut another dive, this time coming up just behind Megan. She tapped the redhead on the shoulder, and when Megan squeaked in startled surprise and turned, Vanessa dove underwater again to make her escape. This time Megan followed, and after some frantic paddling, caught Vanessa near the middle of the pool and promptly yanked her under the surface, only to have the blonde return the favor. Considerable shrieking and splashing ensued.

Joe watched them, smiling wistfully. He wanted very badly to join them in the water, but he knew he didn't have the energy for it. He would never have lived down the humiliation if he'd tried to play in the pool with the girls and ended up having to be rescued by them instead! Unable to stay completely away, he took off his shirt and shorts, and walked over to sit on the steps at the edge of the pool, half-submerged in the water. Immediately both Vanessa and Megan swam to join him.

"You weren't thinking of coming in, were you?" Vanessa demanded in a mock-threatening tone. Her eyes traveled over his body, noting with sympathy the half-healed scrapes and cuts, and the bruises now showing up with startling clarity against his fair skin.

"Just for a little while," Joe responded, moving down a step to slide further beneath the water. "I promise I won't do anything too vigorous," he assured them. "But it looks like too much fun to just sit there and watch." He drew in a long sigh. "The water feels good…" he murmured, and closed his eyes, relaxing.

"Well, don't get any bright ideas about diving in," Vanessa warned him. "You're our pet convalescent, remember?"

"Am I allowed to swim at all?" Joe inquired lazily, half-opening his eyes.

"Only in the shallow end, and only very slowly," Megan declared.

"Sheesh, you two are bossy!" Joe cupped a handful of water and tossed it in Megan's direction. He grinned at her response: she instinctively had begun to return the splash, but caught herself and refrained. "Go ahead and swim," he said docilely. "I'll behave – I promise!"

Deciding he wasn't going to do anything rash, the two girls resumed their activity; swimming pool lengths, diving, and conducting a few water fights. Despite the temptation, Joe managed to restrain himself from following the siren call of his two mermaids, and stayed put in the shallow end of the pool, stroking carefully across a time or two. His strained shoulder still ached, but the mild exercise in the water felt good.

###

An approaching figure caught Joe's eye: his father entered the pool area and sat down in one of the vacant lounge chairs. Fenton smiled to see his younger son enjoying himself in the pool, and chuckled as he saw Megan once again yank Vanessa beneath the water. Spotting the detective, the girls swam over to the pool edge and hauled themselves up, as Joe climbed up the steps.

"Found out anything?" Joe sat down in an adjoining lounge chair and dried off his wet hair with a towel. Megan and Vanessa seated themselves nearby, wrapped in their towels.

"I got hold of my contact who knows about crests," Fenton nodded. "That tie tack has the crest of the Doncaster family. After I talked to him, I called Lieutenant Hunt, and we compared notes. He'd gotten the same information, and he told me that there's a man named Lloyd Doncaster who works for the Tahoe Lakeside Resort and Spa, in South Lake Tahoe."

Joe whistled. "It sounds like Lloyd Doncaster visited us," he commented.

His father nodded. "There's more – Lloyd Doncaster has a record of petty larceny, theft, and served two years for assault. And—" he went on, not done yet with his revelations, "the Tahoe Lakeside resort is owned by a conglomerate, not an individual…a conglomerate based out of Sacramento!"

"Sacramento?" Megan whispered. She knew that the Claremonts were from there.

"Right," Fenton said grimly. "Lieutenant Hunt hasn't been able to find out yet who the head of the conglomerate is, but he's working on it." _As if I didn't know!_ "When he finds out, I suspect we'll have some better answers to our questions. In the meantime, he sent someone to pick up Lloyd Doncaster for questioning. And I've called Sam Radley, to see if he can get me some information about it, from his end."

"What about Jacobs?" Joe asked. "Did you tell Hunt what Thomas Streeter told us?"

Fenton nodded. "I did, and he promised to look Thomas up and have a talk with him. Right now, that's the best he could do."

###

Deciding they'd had enough water sports for a while, the teens and Fenton went back to their rooms. Joe was instructed to take a nap, the girls settled in to shower and re-do their hair and makeup, and Fenton had a long conversation by phone with Sam Radley, then called Laura to find out how Frank was faring.

Later, for dinner, the four went to the little Italian restaurant where Frank, Joe and the girls had eaten previously. Afterwards, Joe joined Megan and Vanessa in their room to watch a movie, and Fenton immersed himself in a Tom Clancy novel, trying to escape his own problems by concentrating on someone else's!

#####

The next morning, Vanessa and Megan decided that they would finally essay the trek to Vikingsholm Castle, and Joe declared he wanted to at least try the hike.

"I feel a lot better today!" he insisted. "Spending a night in a real bed, in a place without hospital smells and constant noise, made all the difference. I slept like a rock!" He turned to his father. "Dad, it's okay if I go, isn't it?"

"Joe, why in the world are you so set on going there now?" Vanessa inquired. "Before, you didn't want to go at all! And now, when you have a perfect excuse not to go, you're determined to do it."

Joe gave her a sheepish smile. "Anything is better than sitting around the hotel by myself all day!" he admitted.

"You'd have to take it very slowly," Fenton warned him. "And Joe, it's the trip up that's going to be the killer, not the trip down! From what I understand, people who hike that thing say the return trip is twice as long as the initial one!"

"I'd still like to try," Joe persisted.

"You can go—" Fenton began, and held up a silencing finger as Joe started a celebratory whoop. "as long as I go too. You'll need someone to drag you back up the trail, and you can't expect Vanessa and Megan to do it!"

"Dad, I'm not going to need anyone dragging me anywhere!" Joe protested. "I'll take it easy, and I'll stop if I get tired. I'll even wait for the girls to come back, if I get too tired on the way down."

###

Eventually, they worked it out. Fenton let himself be persuaded to allow Joe to go, although he did insist on accompanying them, and they set out for Vikingsholm. Declining to let Joe walk the extra distance to the starting point, Fenton drove them to the resort nearest, and parked there. They started off, Megan snapping photos every so often, and occasionally lamenting that they hadn't gotten Frank's video camera out of the hotel safe, to bring along.

The trail was steep, but they made the descent easily. Fenton insisted that his son stop at the resting points along the trail, and although Joe averred he was having no problems at all, he was wise enough not to argue with his father. During the hike, Fenton was absorbed in making calls on his cell phone, attempting to get more information both on Randall Claremont, and Cameron Jacobs. The investigator was beginning to get very frustrated, especially when he couldn't reach Sam Radley!

The castle itself was impressive, with its hand-hewn timbers and sod roof with wildflowers growing on it; once inside they were fascinated with the Scandinavian decorations, and Joe admitted he loved the beams carved to resemble dragons. All in all, Megan proved her point in insisting that the castle be visited, and, she took a myriad of photographs to show Frank and Laura later. Fenton gazed out at tiny Fannette Island, remembering Laura's comments when they were aboard the _Royal Tahoe_ , and smiled. _Secluded, darling – secluded…._

The walk back up the trail started easily enough, but the steepness of the path made the going slow. Joe no longer had any inclination to argue about stopping to rest; he was glad of the respites. He wasn't the only one; Fenton himself felt a few twinges in his back from the exertion of the climb, and the girls trudged along mostly in silence, saving their breath.

When they were about halfway up, Fenton's cell phone chirped, and he unclipped it from his belt and flipped it open. "Hello? Sam!" There followed a conversation consisting of a great deal of 'um-hmm' and 'I see…" from Fenton…and then he broke off with a gasp, his eyes going wide with shock. He looked at Joe and the girls with a startled expression on his face.

Shortly after, he ended the conversation, snapped the phone shut, and set off up the trail at a much faster pace. "Joe, I'm sorry, I really am, but we need to hurry!" he threw back over his shoulder.

"What's wrong, what did Sam say?" Joe asked, trying to hasten his steps to match his father's.

Fenton's voice was distraught and filled with agitation. "We've got to get back to Reno, right away! The wrong person was arrested for trying to kill Frank – and if we don't hurry, someone is going to try it again!"


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 26

The three teens were shocked by Mr. Hardy's words, and immediately all of them tried to pick up the pace even more. Megan tucked her camera away and settled down to marching up the trail at a steady rate of speed; Vanessa stepped behind Joe, and put her hands against his back, ready to give him a little extra shove, should he need it.

Joe was already feeling the pull of fatigue, and he knew he wouldn't be able to make it to the top without stopping to rest a few times, but he was determined to go as far and as fast as he could, so as not to slow them down. _One foot in front of the other…Frank's in trouble – got to get to Frank!….It's a good thing I had a couple of days to recover from getting hurt on Mount Rose…Oh, man, my head's starting to hurt again – never mind, it doesn't matter; we've got to get to Frank! But what's the whole story? Dad hasn't said, and there's no time now to get it from him, we need breath for climbing, not talking…._

By the time they reached the top of the trail, they had been forced to stop for a breather more than once, and not only for Joe's benefit. They made the last few hundred feet with Fenton's arm securely about his son's waist, and Vanessa and Megan alternately tugging each other along. Once in the car, Fenton headed as fast as he could for the hotel.

"Let's grab a few things, just in case we have to stay in Reno again tonight," he advised, pulling into the parking lot at Caesars. "I'm going to give Lieutenant Hunt another call," he added, flipping open his cell phone as he hurried into the hotel, followed by the anxious teens. They hastened to the elevators, and to their rooms to pack, and in less than ten minutes were grouped again by the rental car.

"I got hold of Lieutenant Hunt." Fenton got in last, slamming the car door, and immediately starting the engine. "He got the same information I did."

"What information, Dad?" Joe asked.

But his father was quiet, and didn't answer him. He merely put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space, then slammed it into Drive and shot out into the street, heading for Reno, Nevada, once again. Joe was in the front passenger seat now, and Megan and Vanessa huddled silently in the rear.

"Dad – what information?" Joe demanded impatiently, but Fenton was obviously distracted; Joe's question wasn't penetrating his concentration.

As they passed the now-familiar landmarks in the Tahoe area, Fenton was withdrawn and silent. Occasionally his lips moved, but no sound emerged; a clear sign to Joe, at least, that he was putting clues together and working through a problem. He was concentrating hard, paying the minimum attention to the road, and a worried frown puckered his forehead.

Joe looked back at the girls and shrugged. Then he tried once more. "Dad, if you'll tell us what's going on and what the problem is, maybe we could help you with it," he suggested gently.

Fenton sighed sharply. "I am an idiot. I am a complete idiot. I'm a total idiot. To sum it up, I'm a complete and total idiot. Again."

Joe shook his head. "Dad, you're not an idiot, and whatever it is, you're being too hard on yourself." Soft murmurs of agreement came from the back seat.

"I'm not being too hard on myself," Mr. Hardy stated grimly.

"Dad, what did Sam say to you that's got you so worked up?" Joe persisted.

"Sam had good luck looking into the conglomerate," Fenton said. He was careful to keep his eyes on the road. "I mean, it didn't take him much time to find out who the head is. And then he went a little deeper, because what he'd found out seemed to be a public smokescreen – the information that the conglomerate wants the public to find. A public statement that the conglomerate is owned not by one individual, but by a team of individuals, all with common interests and goals. It doesn't list the goals, of course. And a conglomerate, which as you know is a team of different kinds of businesses – they call them diversified – that have formed together, usually to help profit margins for all of them."

"Thanks for the business lesson, Dad," Joe said in a dry voice. "Could you please just get on with what Sam said?"

"Anyway, Sam did some more digging…." Fenton was still hedging.

"Dad! For sweet Pete's sake, would you just tell us what Sam found out?!" Joe shouted, his patience finally at an end.

Fenton sighed and went on, in a tight, jerky voice. "The head of the conglomerate used to be a man named Aaron – Aaron Cameron Doncaster," he said. "He's the brother of Lloyd Doncaster, the man who supposedly works for the resort just down the way from the Grand Tahoe. Aaron Doncaster got into major trouble with the law, and was supposed to go to prison eight years ago, for fraud, extortion, theft, and manslaughter – he was sentenced to serve a 25-year prison term, but he disappeared. As they do sometimes, they gave him a 'date to report' – I find that highly unusual, considering what he was convicted for, but I have a feeling he had a few people in his pocket. Right after that, he supposedly drove his car off a cliff immediately following the trial, and was declared dead…they never found a body, though, so the case wasn't completely closed. Now, I say 'used to be' in charge because of that – but I have a feeling he's still in charge of it. I think he cleaned up his act, changed his name to Cameron Jacobs, and used some of the money from his old conglomerate to buy the Grand Tahoe Resort – and several other businesses in the South Tahoe region."

Joe was beyond stunned at these revelations, and he whistled softly. Megan and Vanessa were silent in the back seat, listening avidly, but making no comments, trying not to interrupt.

"So…all along, this man who should be in jail, has been running around free," Joe said at last, leaning his head against the window. His headache was growing worse again, but he didn't want to admit it; not now! "That must be why he killed Evan Reed," he realized. "He didn't need the trouble that Reed was creating for him. If the police investigated, and looked too closely at him, they might find out who he really was!"

Suddenly, Joe sat upright, his blue eyes snapping, headache temporarily forgotten. "And he's running around loose!" he repeated. "Dad, do you think Cameron Jacobs is going to try to kill Frank again?"

"He has to," Fenton said grimly. "All this time, he's been worried that Frank saw him kill Reed. He has to try to eliminate Frank, even though Randall Claremont was arrested for it. If there's any chance at all that Frank saw who murdered Reed, then everything Doncaster – or Jacobs – has worked for, is down the tubes. And that," he concluded, "is why I am in such a hurry to get back to the hospital. Frank needs protection!"

Joe glanced into the back seat. Both girls were wide-eyed with shock, and Megan had gone paper-white. Her sprinkling of freckles stood out like new pennies.

"I thought Frank was safe, now that the person who'd tried to kill him was in jail," she gulped. "But he's not – he's not at all…." She set her teeth into her lower lip hard, trying to stop its quivering.

"Honey, we'll do our best to make sure nothing happens to him." Fenton glanced into the rear-view mirror to see Megan's face, and sought for something to take her mind off her fears. "Joe, take my phone off – thanks. Hand it to Megan…Megan, try to call Laura, if you would – Vanessa left her cell phone with her."

A few moments later, Megan snapped the phone shut. "No answer," she reported in a flat, dead voice. "All I got was voice messaging."

"Try to call the hospital then," Fenton instructed her. "You'll have to call directory assistance."

Joe felt the car speed up noticeably, and tightened his seat belt. He heard Megan talk to directory assistance and then heard her read off a number out loud; he turned slightly and saw that Vanessa was writing it down on a pad from her bag. Megan dialed another number on the phone and spoke in low tones, asking to be connected with Frank Hardy's room – but there was no answer to the phone there. She hung up again, obviously more nervous than she had been before. Joe settled back in his seat again.

 _This high-speed run up Mount Rose would have been fun,_ he thought _, if we weren't so worried about Frank_. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, and leaned against the window once more, trying to rid himself of the increasing headache. He knew he could take some of the pain reliever the doctor had prescribed for him, but he didn't want to be fuzzy-headed when they arrived in Reno. What if they needed to leap into action right away? _Nope…better to go without it…._ Without meaning to, Joe dozed off to sleep, lulled by the warmth of the sun streaming through the window where his head rested.

A few minutes later, Joe woke with a start, realizing that the car had abruptly changed speeds _– first he was going really, really slowly, and now we're going faster and faster…._

"Dad, what's wrong? What's going on?" Joe looked over at his father.

Fenton didn't look at him, he was dividing his attention between the road and the rear-view mirror. "We're being followed," he said tersely. "I was just checking to make sure, but the other car doesn't seem to want to go anywhere else; it's sticking right with us." He scowled. "I don't have time to mess with them….Megan, call Lieutenant Hunt, will you please, and tell him about this?" He thought for a moment, and then recited the number for her to dial.

After a few minutes, Megan was speaking to someone who identified himself as Hunt. She informed him of the situation, and described the car, aided by whispered comments from both Vanessa and Joe, who were peering out of the car windows at their pursuer.

"He says to just keep going, and he'll get right on it," Megan relayed to Mr. Hardy, after a brief pause.

Fenton nodded tightly, still keeping an eye on the mirror. "Tell him thanks."

The car kept on at its steady pace, and Joe dozed off once more, despite the anxiety of the moment. He didn't wake up again until they reached Reno's city limits, and Fenton swung the car into a sharp turn.

"Did we lose it?" Joe rubbed his eyes with his fists and turned to look behind them.

"I think so," his father responded. "I just hope that whoever was driving it didn't know we were heading for the hospital, otherwise we'll end up having to deal with them there!"

When Fenton parked the car in the hospital lot near Washoe Medical Center, the four of them climbed out of the vehicle, and hurried into the building, taking the too-familiar route to the room where Frank should be resting. All were anxious now, as if dreading the worst, and they nearly ran down the corridor and swept into Frank's room.

To their surprise and shock, the bed was empty, and neither Frank nor Laura was in the room! Fenton turned on his heel and rushed out to the nurses' station, demanding to know the whereabouts of his wife and son.

"Why, I believe they went up to the sunroom on the seventh floor," he was informed. "Frank was feeling quite a bit better this morning; he was in good spirits and getting restless, so Dr. Singh okayed it. Yes, his mother went with him," she added, with a smile. "Dr. Singh said his arm wound is mending well, and the only IVs he's on now are the antibiotics – and he'll switch him to oral antibiotics tomorrow."

Joe sagged against the desk with a sigh of relief, which was echoed by the girls; and the worried lines in Fenton's face relaxed. They thanked the nurse and headed for the elevator at a more sedate pace, feeling much better.

But when they emerged from the elevator, and followed the directions given to them by the nurse, they saw that the whole area seemed to be in turmoil. An orderly ran towards them as they approached the sun room, and asked if they were possibly Frank Hardy's family.

"Yes, we are," Fenton admitted, his voice going tight and tense once more.

"Well, sir, we don't know exactly what happened, but he's missing!" the orderly said in a worried tone.

Running footsteps echoed in the corridor, and Laura dashed up to them, looking frantic. "Fenton – oh, thank God you're here! I left Frank in the sunroom a little bit ago, while I went down to the gift shop to get him a couple of things…when I came back he was gone!" She clutched her husband's arm with frantic hands. "I didn't leave him alone – Cameron Jacobs came to visit him, and I just had to get away from that man for a little bit; he's just too much! – and he offered to stay with Frank, and everything seemed all right—"

Fenton felt himself go pale – Cameron Jacobs! He knew he should have gotten hold of her earlier! "Darling – Laura, darling – Jacobs is the one behind all of this!" he told her. "He's the one who's been trying to have Frank killed, all this time. He's the one who killed Evan Reed. Honey, it wasn't the Claremonts, at all!"

Laura gasped and went pale, putting her hands to her face. "And Cameron Jacobs has Frank!"


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann and Max2013 and BMSH for the comments.

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 27

Bright sunlight was beating down on Frank Hardy's face, and he tilted his head back, enjoying the warm caress of the beams. He was enjoying his visit to the hospital solarium very much. The sun's warmth and the freshness of the air felt so good, after being stuck in that hospital room. Frank could hear his mother behind him, talking to some people, but he didn't bother turning around to see who she was speaking with. Instead, he went back to watching a rainbow made out of the sunlight beading on a section of the window in front of him.

"Frank, sweetie, how are you feeling? Are you doing all right?" Laura was bending over his tilted-back wheelchair.

Frank opened his eyes. "I'm fine, Mom." He reached for her hand with his good one, and managed to give it a squeeze. And he was. His left arm, bandaged and casted, was cradled in a sling, and rested on the arm of the wheelchair, and Frank was grateful for the mere fact that it – and the area where all the stitches were – didn't hurt at the moment.

"Would you like some water?" Laura asked.

Frank nodded, and she departed for the hallway, where the water cooler, with its supply of paper cups, was located.

Frank shifted positions slightly, very cautiously. It hurt everywhere when he tried to move, but when he stayed still too long, _that_ hurt too. He closed his eyes again, and leaned back, letting the sun stream onto his face once more. _That feels so good…so good…._

His moment of relaxation was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat nearby. Frank opened his eyes reluctantly, and turned his head. A tall, blonde man with green eyes, wearing impeccably-cut clothes, stood nearby. He smiled brightly when he saw Frank had noticed him.

"Hello, there – I'm Cameron Jacobs." He extended his hand, and Frank listlessly lifted his for a lukewarm handshake. "I'm the one who brought your parents here, in my helicopter, the other night."

"I heard about the ride," Frank nodded. "I'd have liked to be on it."

Laura appeared at that moment with the glass of water. "Here you go, honey," she said, and handed it to Frank. She barely acknowledged Cameron Jacobs's presence, limiting her greeting to a cool nod. She moved around Frank's wheelchair, putting it between herself and Jacobs.

Frank drank carefully, watching as Jacobs pulled two chairs up close, one each for himself and Laura. _What's going on here? Mom sure doesn't seem to want to get close to Mr. Jacobs. Wonder what's up?_

Cameron Jacobs seemed friendly enough, however. He chatted amiably with Frank, saying that he'd been in Reno for a meeting; it had just ended a short time before, and he thought that he'd check and see how Frank was doing, before he headed back to Tahoe.

"How's the other boy doing?" Jacobs asked then, glancing at Laura.

In a voice that sounded strained to the listening Frank, Laura replied. "Joe was released from the hospital yesterday, and went back to Stateline then. He's recovering nicely."

"Oh good; that's good to hear." Jacobs smiled his charming, disingenuous smile. Laura felt herself gritting her teeth.

Frank shut his eyes and effectively shut himself out of the conversation. He let the sunlight's glow envelop him again, and dozed off. He jerked awake a few minutes later, in an uncomfortable position, and saw Cameron Jacobs had moved his chair, and was leaning close to Laura.

"Just give me a chance, Laura," he was saying persuasively. "I'm really a nice guy, you know – and you're the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"I'm MARRIED!" Laura stressed, trying to be emphatic while still keeping her voice down. "Very happily married, with two children. Go away, Mr. Jacobs, and stop pestering me."

Instead of leaving, however, Cameron Jacobs leaned back in his chair and began to apologize profusely. Frank, a most uncomfortable and reluctant listener, closed his eyes and tried not to hear the words.

"I'm sorry, Laura – really, I don't know what came over me. I do apologize…I really do have better manners than that – I'm acting like a complete gorilla!"

"Yes," Laura agreed, in an icy tone.

 _You sure are!_ was Frank's silent rejoinder.

"Can I make it up to you somehow?" Jacobs sounded very anxious. "I really want to, you know."

"You can make it up to me by leaving me alone, Mr. Jacobs," Laura told him wearily.

 _Yeah, Jacobs – leave us alone!_ Frank seconded silently.

Jacobs, however, didn't take the hint. Instead, he turned his attention to Frank.

"Frank, how would you like a ride in my helicopter when you're feeling better?" he suggested. Frank, somewhat offended, felt like a small child being offered a special treat. He shrugged a little, with his good shoulder.

"Thanks, but I get plenty of flying at home, Mr. Jacobs," he said. "I work part-time as a pilot for an air cargo company." _And I'm not going to be too friendly to anyone who makes my mother look as uncomfortable as_ _you_ _are making her look!_ Frank mentally added.

"Oh, I didn't realize that!" Jacobs' smile was suddenly genuinely friendly, and he immediately turned the subject to their common interest of flying. Frank was lulled into conversation, but it was an interesting one, at least, and he saw that Laura was slowly relaxing as Jacobs' attention was turned from her _. He's trying to be nice, and he's not putting any more moves on her…._

"If you two pilots will excuse me for a few minutes, I think I'll run down to the gift shop and look for another magazine." Laura got to her feet. "Frank, can I pick anything up for you there?"

"Thanks, Mom, I'm fine." Frank smiled gratefully at her. "Enjoy yourself."

"I'll stay with Frank until you get back, Laura," Jacobs assured her. "I won't leave him alone. I'll even take him back to his room if he gets too tired."

"All right…." Laura looked just a bit hesitant, but finally departed, leaving the two men to their chatting.

Only three or four minutes had passed when Cameron Jacobs made a suggestion. "Frank, you're looking mighty tired…would you like me to take you back to your room now?"

Frank, who had been on the verge of dozing off again, blinked sleepily. "Yeah – thanks, Mr. Jacobs; I'd appreciate that." He let his eyes drift closed as he felt the wheelchair start to move.

It wasn't until they were in the elevator that a sense of disquiet came over the elder Hardy boy. They were going… _up_. _Shouldn't we have gone down?_ The solarium was on the seventh floor; his room was on the fifth. "Mr. Jacobs?" Frank asked, in a tired voice. "Are we going to the right floor?"

"I wasn't paying attention when we got on the elevator, Frank," Jacobs replied soothingly. "We got on one going up instead of down. I'll get us turned around as soon as I can. We'll just get out on the tenth floor and catch another elevator."

Satisfied with the answer, Frank nodded off again.

He was abruptly awakened, however, when he felt himself being hauled to his feet, yanked by his good arm. Pain shot through him from various parts of his body. "Ouch – what…?"

"Be quiet, Frank, I've got a surprise for you, that's all," Jacobs murmured. He jerked the IV line from the back of Frank's hand, and tossed it onto the floor.

"Ouch! No! What are you doing?" Frank attempted a yell, but Jacobs cursed softly and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and stuffed it roughly into Frank's mouth.

Unable to remove the handkerchief – Jacobs was gripping his good arm, and he couldn't lift the injured one far enough to get his hand near his mouth – Frank wanted to struggle, but lacked the strength to do so. He was too weak to put up any kind of a fight, as Jacobs began hauling him up what proved to be a flight of stairs. His steely grip around Frank's bruised ribs and back was excruciating, and Frank moaned with pain.

"Sorry boy," Jacobs whispered to him. "But you've seen a little too much. If you'd kept your eyes shut, I wouldn't have to do this…"

Frank tried to scream…but only muted sounds emerged through the makeshift gag.

#####

"All right, let's split up!" Fenton commanded. There was no time to lose. "Laura, you and Megan go down – search the floors below 7. Joe and Vanessa and I'll go up from here. Hurry now!" He marshaled them in front of him, heading for the elevators, making hasty requests to the hospital personnel to aid in the search for Cameron Jacobs and Frank.

Vanessa got out on the eighth floor, and Fenton the ninth, while Joe continued upward to the tenth floor. A thorough search of the floor, however, brought Joe nothing. No one seemed to have seen a tall, blonde man pushing a dark-haired one in a reclining wheelchair. Joe gritted his teeth in frustration. He sensed that Jacobs wasn't going to be found on the lower floors, but _where could he have gone?_

Suddenly, Joe snapped his fingers and headed for the stairs. _Helicopter! He has a helicopter!_ He scrambled up the stairs, following the signs indicating the helipad on the roof. Finally, Joe reached the heavy door to the roof, and yanked it open, hurtling out into the sunshine – and froze, horrified. There was a little helicopter…and there was someone who must be Cameron Jacobs…and Jacobs was in the middle of loading Frank into the aircraft!

"LET HIM GO, DONCASTER!" Joe bellowed, starting to run across the massive ceiling of the hospital toward the helipad at the other end. He was running for all he was worth, the injuries of a few days before ignored in his anxiety and desire to get to his older brother. He could see Frank's face contorted in pain, yet Frank seemed to be half out of it, sagging limply in Jacobs' arms. Something was jammed in his mouth, preventing speech.

Cameron Jacobs froze, a panicked expression on his face, half-in and half-out of the helicopter. For a moment he hesitated, then he pulled Frank back out, and dragged the elder Hardy upright, placing him between himself and Joe. He gripped Frank around the ribs – Joe grimaced, thinking what awful pain that compression must be causing Frank – and seized him about the neck with his free hand.

"Hold it right there," Jacobs gritted. "Make one false move and I'll break his neck. You know I can do it."

Joe obediently skidded to a stop a dozen or so yards from the chopper. He was more anxious now than he had been before – and winded from his run up the stairs. His head was pounding from the exertion. He realized that he should have done this more quietly – should have sneaked up on Jacobs, and gotten closer before challenging him – but once again, his impetuosity had gotten the better of him!

Joe glared hotly at the man holding Frank – the man responsible for trying to kill them both! He took one small step forward, putting on a brave front while trying to figure out what he should do.

"You're going to do it anyway." He hurled the accusation. One step…then another one, a small one _. Get a little closer to him…little steps….If I can get close enough, maybe I can grab Frank. I should be able to take Doncaster, or Jacobs, or whatever his name is. I'm stronger than he is, I'll bet!_ Joe thrust to the back of his mind a nagging little voice which reminded him that Cameron Jacobs was a tall, strong man, and he was in no great shape at the moment, whether he was stronger than Jacobs or not!

"It's all over, Jacobs," Joe grated. Another step…. "The police know who you are, and they're coming after you. You're going to go to jail anyway; you might as well just give up now; it might go easier on you." Another step.

Joe, however, had miscalculated Jacob's desperation to get away. The man moved toward the front of the helicopter, dragging Frank with him. Frank wasn't putting up any sort of struggle; he sagged limply against Jacobs, his head drooping.

 _Frank's too weak to try to escape, or he's passed out_ , Joe realized with bitter fear. _And Jacobs may be insane enough – or evil enough—to just kill him anyway!_

"They aren't going to get me all that easily," Jacobs sneered. "I have one hostage now. If you want any chance of getting your brother to safety, you'll just have to let me go, won't you? I might return him alive…then again, I might not! But letting me go is his only chance – because if you, kid, come any closer, I'll snap his neck right now."

Joe stopped moving. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want Jacobs to fly away with Frank – and he certainly didn't want Jacobs to kill him – but it could happen anyway, no matter what he tried. He held up his hands, palms toward Jacobs and attempted to reason with him. "Look, Mr. Jacobs…I won't stop you from leaving. You have a helicopter; you can be away from here before the police have any idea you're gone. Just leave Frank here – okay?"

Cameron Jacobs smiled – it was the same sort of smooth, predatory smile he had once used on Laura, but now there was a difference. It was vicious and malevolent.

"You know something, kid?" he said, "I had a good bag, here. Eight years, I was able to hide; been able to keep anyone from finding out who I really was, or what I was doing. Eight years. And I'd become even more successful than I was before the trial. I played it straight – I cleaned up my act. And now it's all over, because of two people." He glared at Joe. "Two people," he emphasized. "Evan Reed – and this boy!" He shook Frank sharply, and Frank moaned in pain. "I don't like losing what I fought so hard to get!" Jacobs shifted his grip, seizing Frank's arm where the stick had rammed through. He knew he was hurting the older boy, and Cameron Jacobs didn't care. He wanted Frank to pay, in every way possible, for ruining him.

"Frank didn't even know!" Joe cried desperately. "He never saw who killed Evan – he hadn't even looked at the tape! None of us had! And besides, the tape wasn't clear – you couldn't have been identified, because of the make-up!"

Jacobs shrugged. It no longer mattered. He stepped back towards the helicopter, dragging Frank's stumbling form after him, and forced him into the chopper's passenger seat. To Joe, it appeared that Frank had lost consciousness again. His head lolled forward, and he slumped against the front console.

Jacobs climbed into the pilot's seat. He waved nonchalantly to Joe, smiling as he leaned forward to start the motor.

"Frank!" Joe began to run towards the helicopter as Jacobs started it up. The rotors on the top turned in a slow, lazy circle, then sped up, whirling faster and faster. Joe screamed again, but his voice was lost in the din of the chopper. He closed the distance to the aircraft, and as he reached it, he glimpsed two men, running across the roof from the other direction. One was his father – the other? Joe wasn't sure who it was, and didn't have time to find out. He launched himself desperately at the helicopter.

The chopper lifted a few feet, tilting slightly as it gained altitude. Joe leaped up, grabbing frantically for one of the struts, and saw his father do the same. _Whew, glad Dad's here; I can use the help!_

Joe was about to climb further up onto the strut when the helicopter lurched wildly, throwing him off-balance. He let out a shout of terror as he found himself hanging out over open air, by only one hand. He reached up, and grasped the strut with his other hand, and clung tightly to the metal bar.

The helicopter lurched violently again, and this time it was Fenton who nearly lost his grip. Joe's heart constricted as he saw his father's struggle to maintain his hold. "Hang on, Dad!" he screamed. He couldn't see what was happening in the chopper, but figured that Jacobs must be jolting it around, trying to knock them off the struts. As Joe saw Fenton regain his grip, he swung his legs a couple of times to gain some momentum, then managed to get one over the strut, and pull himself up to see what was going on inside.

Frank was still slumped over the console, and Jacobs was ignoring him, concentrating on raising the chopper – and dislodging his two uninvited passengers! Joe reached through the open door of the craft and grabbed the back seat, hauling himself upright on the strut. Glancing downward – a move he immediately regretted! – he glimpsed a fight taking place on the roof; the man who had accompanied his father, and another stranger. He blinked, wondering just what all _that_ was about, but hastily returned his attention to the chopper's interior.

Joe was about to clamber into the craft, when to his amazement, Frank suddenly pushed himself away from the console, and using his one good arm, slugged Cameron Jacobs soundly in the jaw! The man nearly pitched out of the helicopter, held in only by his safety belt, and the chopper yawed wildly in the air, causing Joe and Fenton to hang on for dear life. Frank hit him again, and then grabbed frantically for the joystick as Jacobs slumped sideways in his seat.

Maneuvering the helicopter carefully with his one functional hand, Frank managed to move it back over the hospital roof, and hover briefly, allowing Joe and Fenton time to leap off and get out of the way, before he set the chopper down on the roof's surface with shuddering impact and a resounding _CLUNK_! He switched off the power and sank back into his seat, eyes closed. His good hand rose, yanking the gag from his mouth, then dropped limply to his lap.

Fenton dove back towards the machine, with Joe close behind, and seized Cameron Jacobs' limp arm, twisting it behind his back to make sure the man was going nowhere, even if he regained consciousness.

"Ouch…." Frank moaned piteously, and Joe, looking up, saw his brother pitch forward onto the console again – this time completely unconscious.

#####

Half an hour later, things had settled down. The local police had arrived. Frank had been returned to his room, and put to bed. While Laura and Megan sat with him, Fenton, Joe, Vanessa, and Lieutenant Byron Hunt remained on the hospital roof, talking to the police and watching as Cameron Jacobs, a.k.a. Aaron Doncaster was handcuffed in preparation to being taken to jail. Joe had reported what had happened on the roof. Hunt, who had left Stateline after his last conversation with the Hardys on their way to Reno, had made the trip by police helicopter. He had landed in Reno and raced for the hospital, arriving shortly after Fenton and the others started looking for Frank, and had found, fought, and subdued one of Jacobs' underlings.

"I suspect the Sacramento police will be delighted to have Doncaster back in custody." The Reno police officer grinned cheerfully. "We like to make people happy like that, you know? He'll be serving out his prior sentence, plus whatever he gets for the murder of Evan Reed, and the attempted murders of you Hardys. He's not going to be out of prison for a long, long time."

Hunt nodded solemnly as he rubbed at his head. "I need a vacation," he announced. "Or at least, a break from your vacation, Hardy! Anyway, we know that everything wraps up now. I'll let you get back to your family. Come see me, or call me before you leave town. This one, I suspect, will tell us everything he knows, if he thinks he can get a lighter sentence."

The lieutenant glanced over at the assailant he had fought, who was standing, handcuffed, near Cameron Jacobs. Hunt had said, earlier, that it had been a closely-fought battle for about two minutes – and then the man had used up his whole arsenal of hand-to-hand techniques, and Hunt had him down in no time flat. Hunt rubbed at the back of his blonde head again, gingerly. "Maybe he got in one or two decent punches," he admitted. Then he grinned. "Go on with you now, Fenton – you have a family to see!"

###

Down on the fifth floor, Frank Hardy slowly opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling. _Was it all a dream? A pain-medication-induced nightmare?_ No, he was sure it hadn't been. He really had been kidnapped by Cameron Jacobs and dragged to the roof…and nearly taken away in a helicopter, probably to be dumped out over the Sierras. His arm hurt again, and his ribs ached, but overall, he decided, he didn't feel too awfully bad. _They must've…kicked in some more of…that good stuff in the IV…_ he thought dreamily, and let himself float a little while longer.

###

Voices in muted conversation penetrated his consciousness, and he turned his head, not surprised to find his parents, Joe, Megan, and Vanessa all sitting in the room. Joe and Vanessa were perched on the other bed, Fenton and Laura sat in chairs between the beds…and Megan, contrary to all hospital rules, was sitting on the end of his bed, her hand resting on his leg through the blankets. As he moved, she looked up and smiled at him, the sparkling, dimpled smile of old, although he noticed she looked as if she'd cried in the recent past.

"Hey, darling," she said softly. "Welcome back!"

Immediately the center of attention, Frank was a little embarrassed by the fuss made over him. There had been entirely too much of this, lately!

"Hey, bro!" Joe leaned over to get his attention. "We did it again! We won – we got the bad guys!" He grinned broadly. "Thanks to you – and me!" Having finally gotten around to taking something for his headache, Joe was, at the moment, literally feeling no pain.

Vanessa rolled her eyes significantly. "No false modesty in that boy!" she murmured. Then she put her arm around Joe and hugged him tightly. "I'm kidding, Joe; I'm so proud of you – both of you – I could just burst!"

Frank pushed the button to raise the head of his bed, delighted to find that he felt well enough to do so. "Details!" he demanded. "Tell me all about it – I was half out of it on the roof, and missed a lot."

Between Fenton and Joe, Frank received the most concise report of what had happened and why Cameron Jacobs had tried so hard to kill him. When his father and brother had concluded the tale, Frank shook his head in bemusement.

"It's hard to believe – all this because of a murder I didn't witness!" He smiled, and stretched out his hand to meet Megan's. "When can I get out of the hospital? I can't wait!"


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Many thanks to Cherylann, BMSH, LaurieQ and Max2013 for the feedback!

 **Ides of August**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 28

TWO DAYS LATER

"Look, Frank! See what I've got?" Megan dropped to a seat beside him on a shady bench outside Caesars Palace in Stateline. He leaned to kiss her, smiling a welcome.

"Show me, Baby."

Carefully, she emptied a sack that seemed to be filled with mounds of tissue paper. "It's the crystal bells," she explained. "From the different places I went, and one for each day of vacation. Ten!" She dimpled, and kissed him again, and set about unpacking her treasures, one by one.

Frank looked at them and made appropriately enthusiastic noises. He liked them all right, and he was delighted that Megan was happy, but he still wasn't up to much more than sitting quietly, and holding onto his girlfriend with his good arm. He'd left the hospital in Reno that morning, the absolute earliest he could persuade the doctors to release him. It was now late afternoon, and so far all he'd done with the day was nap in the car, eat lunch, and nap in his room.

Now he felt like being outside for a while, enjoying the warm sunshine and observing the bustle and noise and glitter of the Stateline scene. His arm was in a comfortable sling, and as long as he didn't try moving too rapidly, his ribs didn't bother him, and the headaches seemed to have mostly stopped. Despite the incessant noise of cars and tourists, it felt…peaceful, somehow.

"Where are my folks, do you know?" he asked, now, as Megan finished putting away her bells.

She giggled, her blue-green eyes lighting up in the way he always found so alluring, and her dimple dodging in and out of her cheek. "They're currently in the casino, trying to beat the odds at blackjack!" she told him exuberantly. "Maybe they'll hit it big!"

Frank groaned, laughed, and rolled his eyes. "More likely, there goes my college fund!" he exclaimed. "I'll probably have to get a second job to afford the tuition!" They laughed together, and Megan hugged him gently, mindful of his injuries.

Familiar voices and more laughter came their way, and Joe and Vanessa appeared, walking up from the street. Vanessa had evidently been shopping too, for she was carrying a plastic sack with a store logo on it.

"This has to be the most PERFECT gift for Mom!" Vanessa was insisting. She held up the bag, and dropped to a seat on the grass in front of Frank and Megan. Joe squatted down next to her, giving his brother a very gentle slap on the knee in greeting as he did so.

"What about the balloon you bought her at Heavenly?" Joe teased, ruffling Vanessa's hair. "I thought that was the most perfect gift for Andrea!"

"This is better!" she replied, in a laughing, indignant voice. "And you saw it, so stop pretending you don't know! It's a pendant and charm bracelet set," she explained to Frank and Megan. "The bracelet has lots of tiny hot-air balloons on it, in different colors – and there are earrings that match, too, with little balloons dangling. It's perfect – Mom will love them!"

She drew out the jewelry and held it up. Megan cooed, and marveled, and admired it; Frank smiled, and nodded his approval.

"That balloon ride was totally divine, yesterday!" Vanessa continued, putting the gifts back in their sack. "I wish you two could have come, Frank; it's something nice and easy and gentle, that you could have done."

Frank grinned ruefully. "I'm just as happy to keep solid earth under my feet right now, Van, after coming so close to being tossed out of a helicopter!"

"It was worth getting up early for, though," Joe admitted. "Really pretty! And so quiet! And the brunch afterwards was super!" He grinned. "Even if Van and I couldn't have the champagne!"

"The balloon will be a reminder for me, and the jewelry will be a perfect thing for Mom," Vanessa reiterated. "After all, she missed out on her vacation!"

"And so you're reminding her that you got to go on one?" Joe queried, laughing. "Besides, I know you intend on borrowing that jewelry. Andrea will be lucky to ever get to wear it!"

Vanessa playfully smacked him with her bag. "At least I don't eat waffles for every meal, Waffle Boy!"

"Hey!" Joe protested, laughing and making a grab for the bag. "Stop picking on me!" He snatched it from her grasp and held it teasingly out of reach for a moment, then surrendered it. "Speaking of waffles, though, isn't it about time to eat? We're on our own tonight; Mom and Dad are finally going to a dinner show tonight – with the Claremonts, of all people! I'm not sure Mr. Claremont has forgiven Dad yet, but Mrs. Claremont and Mom are trying to smooth things over. So," he concluded, breathlessly, "what are we going to do?"

Frank sighed, feeling somewhat depressed and overwhelmed by Joe's bubbling enthusiasm. Joe had bounced back from their ordeal in the woods quickly, whereas _he_ wasn't feeling up to doing much of _anything_ , yet. He'd expected it – the doctor had told him it would be at least a week before he started feeling more like himself – but it was still frustrating. He wouldn't be allowed to try going back to work for at least two weeks… _and with this busted arm, I can't fly, anyhow! Maybe there's_ _something_ _I can do, to help Jack, but I don't know what…._

Before anyone had come up with a satisfactory reply to Joe's demand, they were joined by yet another couple – Laura and Fenton, who walked out of Caesars and stopped to talk.

"How'd the blackjack go?" Frank asked, teasingly, after greetings were exchanged.

"Could've been worse." Fenton patted his pocket smugly, but didn't elaborate. Laura's eyes were twinkling; Frank surmised that for once, Caesars' house odds had been beaten by a detective's good luck!

"It looks like nobody's going to hear from Aaron Cameron Doncaster, a.k.a. Cameron Jacobs, for a long time to come," Fenton commented, then. "He's already back in California, serving his twenty-five-year sentence for manslaughter, and he's facing a trial for the murder of Evan Reed, as well as the assault charges on you two." He glanced from Joe to Frank. "It looks like we may have to fly back here for that, but we won't know anything for a few weeks."

"I can live with coming back to Lake Tahoe!" Joe smiled. "If it's winter time by then, we can go skiing!" He looked up at Frank. "Doesn't that sound like fun, bro?" Frank nodded, smiling a little. He _hoped_ he'd feel like skiing by that time.

"Cameron Jacobs has to be one of the best-looking criminals I've ever seen," Vanessa commented in a dreamy voice. She winked at Megan, as Joe gasped and bristled at her remark. "Don't you think so?"

"Uh-huh." Megan followed her lead without missing a beat. "Totally studly – and deadly!"

Frank and Joe both groaned loudly, and Fenton and Laura burst into laughter.

"Studly or not," Laura retorted, when the laughter died away, "he was a blasted nuisance, and I'm glad to be well rid of him! He deserves every day he's sentenced to, in my opinion!"

"Dad, did you ever find out about the knife?" Joe queried. "How did Reed get stabbed with Randall Claremont's knife, anyway?"

Fenton smiled a little. "It wasn't Claremont's knife, Joe. Lieutenant Hunt told me that the murder weapon turned out to be one which was stolen from a museum in Sacramento over ten years ago. They found a little marking on it which showed it was representative of a small katana made some time in the 1700s in Japan. Claremont's knife is still safely in Sacramento. Oh, and the men who had been helping Doncaster have all been apprehended. Other than Lloyd Doncaster, they all worked as security guards for the Grand Tahoe Resort. As soon as he'd spotted Frank filming, Jacobs set them onto shadowing you kids, trying to either get the camcorder away, or later, to eliminate you. And there were enough of them that they could keep tabs on you most of the time."

A white Mercedes drove up in front of Caesars, and swung into the parking lot. In a few moments, Randall and Lisa Claremont got out, and approached the group near the bench. Laura and Lisa greeted each other warmly, but Randall and Fenton were stiff and formal, eyeing each other warily like antagonistic dogs.

Frank watched the two men curiously, knowing there was considerable reason for constraint between them. Fenton was highly embarrassed by his major error in judgment, and Randall was righteously indignant because of the results of that error – but Frank thought they might be able to work things out, given half a chance. _I'm glad I was able to thank Mr. Claremont for saving me…I felt bad about him going to jail, and I'm glad things were sorted out._

"Frank," Mr. Claremont turned away from his staring match with Fenton to speak kindly to the young man. "I'm glad to see you out of the hospital. How are you feeling now?"

"Not too bad, thanks, Mr. Claremont," Frank replied. "I'm still pretty tired, but I feel a lot better than I did yesterday." He eyed Claremont speculatively, wondering if he dared ask…. "Out of curiosity, sir, could I ask something? What was the 'we have to do something about the boy' comment about?"

Randall Claremont sighed. "I was on the phone when I said that. I was talking to one of the supervisors at my company, about an employee who's been with us for a year and still isn't measuring up to the job, even though he was highly qualified. He recently made a big enough error that he cost me nearly twenty thousand dollars. That's all I meant by the comment…we have to figure out whether to fire him, or find out if it was a major training problem, or maybe find him a place in a different part of the company. Something has to be done, anyway."

"Oh." Frank nodded his understanding. _As simple as that…._

"Mr. Claremont, I apologize, again, for not asking you about it, right then and there," Fenton said tautly. "And I apologize – again – for believing the worst of you, without proof."

Randall finally faced him squarely, and shrugged. "Look, Hardy, I may not ever get over spending two days in jail because of you, but I do understand that things happen, and I know you were upset – rightfully so. I may not like you very much right now, especially since you suspected me of being with the Mob, but let's try to get along for Lisa's and Laura's sakes. We can try to forget, as much as possible, what happened, and go enjoy the show, and just go on from there. If you keep apologizing to me, it's not going to work." He paused, then added. "Is that okay with you…Fenton?"

Fenton smiled tentatively, and nodded his agreement. He and Laura and the Claremonts bid the teens goodnight, and the four adults departed for their show.

Still reluctant to move from this comfortable spot, Frank, Joe, Vanessa and Megan sat talking a little longer, watching the people as they walked by in the sunshine. To no one's real surprise – it seemed to be an afternoon of renewing acquaintances – another person approached them: Thomas Streeter.

"Hey, guys – I just wanted to thank you for listening to me, the other day," Streeter began. "Oh – I'm Thomas Streeter," he introduced himself to Frank. "I'm sorry now that I didn't speak up sooner about Cameron Jacobs – maybe you wouldn't have been hurt, if I had!"

Frank smiled at the earnest young man. "It wasn't your fault at all, and I'll be fine; don't worry about it. What are you doing now?"

"I'm leaving Tahoe," Streeter admitted. "Today, in fact. I'm going to go back home to my parents' house for a while, and go to school, maybe try to pick up a degree of some kind." He smiled, for the first time since they'd met him. "I guess Lake Tahoe just wasn't where I was supposed to be." He looked at his watch. "Hey, I've got to go; I have a bus to catch! Thanks again!"

And Thomas Streeter hurried down the street and was lost to view.

"Dinner?" Joe hinted, once they were alone again.

"Why don't we just go inside and order from Room Service and eat on the balcony of one of the rooms?" Megan suggested. "It's the first chance we've had to do that in a long time; we haven't been together like this to eat since the day we played volleyball on the beach." Aside from it being a pleasantly agreeable idea, Megan knew this would be the easiest on Frank, and she was concerned about him overdoing things.

"Sounds fine to me," Vanessa chimed in, and Joe nodded his head. He, too, wanted Frank to take it easy.

They got up, Joe making his offer of assistance to Frank as inconspicuous as possible. Once on his feet, Frank draped his arm across Megan's shoulders, willing to use her as a prop, and she encircled his waist with a gentle arm, cuddling close.

They went inside and upstairs to the boys' room, got Frank comfortably settled, and proceeded to order dinner.

"Look, there are waffles in here!" Joe pointed to the Room Service menu. "It says 'available all hours'! Maybe I should order waffles!"

"If you order waffles, I'm going to hit you!" Vanessa threatened. "If I was you, I'd be so thoroughly sick of waffles by this time—"

Joe laughed. "I'm kidding, babe – a man can't live solely on waffles. Not when there are cheeseburgers!"

She gave a relieved shout of laughter. "Now that's the Joe Hardy I know and love! For a while there, I was beginning to wonder if you'd become a waffle-tarian when I wasn't looking!"

###

Later that evening, the four of them stood on the balcony outside the bedroom, looking at another glorious sunset over the lake. Megan stood in front of Frank, who held her tightly against him with his good arm, and rested his chin on top of her head; and Joe had his arms wrapped around Vanessa as they stood watching the brilliant colors play out over the waters.

Megan tilted her head back to rest against Frank's chest. "This certainly was a vacation to remember!" she murmured.

Frank thought about that for a little while in silence. Finally, he smiled and replied. "Baby, when you said 'beware the Ides of March,' you were more right than you knew – but the Ides of March had nothing on the Ides of August!"

They shared a laugh as the sun went down beneath the horizon.

#####

Somewhere across the lake, a man was similarly holding his wife in his arms, and he kissed her cheek and smiled as he whispered: "Well, Erica, maybe this place isn't the best one for your family to move into, after all – but it has the best sunsets we've seen in a long time. Still…better tell The Family that Tahoe is a no go…."

The End


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